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LIBRARY 


V 


UNIVERSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 

SAN  DIEGO 


J 


Library 


OF 


F.   P.   Fitzgerald 


No 


PR  3454  Jt   1889 
JN1VERSITV  OF  CALIFORNIA    SAN  DIEGO 


3  1822  01037  7927 


ft 


presented  to  the 

UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
SAN  DIEGO 

by 

Dr.   Helen  S.   Nicholson 


Portrait  of  Charles  I. 

Photogravure  —  From  Painting  by  Ant.  Van  Dyke 


Illustrated  Sterling  6dition 


THE    HISTORY 

OF     THE 

LIFE   OF  THE   LATE 


MR.    JONATHAN    WILD 

THE    GREAT 


BY 
HENRY    FIELDING 


A   SKETCH    OF   THE    LIFE   OF 

HENRY   FIELDING 


BY 
ALFRED    TRIMBLE 


BOSTON 
DANA    ESTES    &    COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


CONTENTS. 


<♦> 


BOOK  I. 

CHAPTER   I. 

PAGE 

Showing  the  wholesome  uses  drawn  from  recording  the  achievements 
of  those  wonderful  productions  of  nature  called  Great  Men        .      1 

CHAPTER  II. 

Giving  an  account  of  as  many  of  our  hero's  ancestors  as  can  be 
gathered  out  of  the  rubbish  of  antiquity,  which  hath  been  care- 
fully sifted  for  that  purpose 4 

CHAPTER  III. 

The  birth,  parentage,  and  education  of  Mr.  Jonathan  Wild  the  Great      7 

CHAPTER   IV. 

Mr.  Wild's  first  entrance  into  the  world.  His  acquaintance  with 
Count  La  Ruse 11 

CHAPTER    V. 

A  dialogue  between  young  Master  Wild  and  Count  La  Ruse,  which, 
having  extended  to  the  rejoinder,  had  a  very  quiet,  easy,  and 
natural  conclusion 14 

CHAPTER   VI. 

Further  conferences  between  the  count  and  Master  Wild,  with  other 

matters  of  the  great  kind .20 


4  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   VII. 

PAGE 

Master  Wild  sets  out  on  his  travels,  and  returns  home  again.  A 
very  short  chapter,  containing  infinitely  more  time  and  less 
matter  than  any  other  in  the  whole  story 23 

CHAPTER   VIII. 

An  adventure  where  Wild,  in  the  division  of  the  booty,  exhibits  an 

astonishing  instance  of  greatness 25 

CHAPTER   IX. 

Wild  pays  a  visit  to  Miss  Lsetitia  Snap.  A  description  of  that  lovely 
young  creature,  and  the  successless  issue  of  Mr.  Wild's  addresses    29 

CHAPTER   X. 

A  discovery  of  some  matters  concerning  the  chaste  Lsetitia  which 
must  wonderfully  surprise,  and  perhaps  affect  our  reader  .        .     31 

CHAPTER   XI. 

Containing  as  notable  instances  of  human  greatness  as  are  to  be  met 
with  in  ancient  or  modern  history.  Concluding  with  some 
wholesome  hints  to  the  gay  part  of  mankind  .         .        .        .33 

CHAPTER   XII. 

Further  particulars  relating  to  Miss  Tishy,  which  perhaps  may  not 
greatly  surprise  after  the  former.  The  description  of  a  very  fine 
gentleman,  and  a  dialogue  between  Wild  and  the  count,  in  which 
public  virtue  is  just  hinted  at,  with,  etc 37 

CHAPTER   XIII. 

A  chapter  of  which  we  are  extremely  vain,  and  which  indeed  we 
look  on  as  our  chef-d" 'ceuvre ;  containing  a  wonderful  story  con- 
cerning the  devil,  and  as  nice  a  scene  of  honor  as  ever  happened    40 

CHAPTER   XIV. 
In  which  the  history  of  greatness  is  continued 44 


BOOK  II. 


CHAPTER   I. 


Characters  of  silly  people,  with  the  proper  uses  for  which  such  are 
designed 51 


CONTENTS.  5 

CHAPTER  II. 

PAGE 

Great  examples  of  Greatness  in  Wild,  shown  as  well  by  his  behavior 
to  Bagshot  as  in  a  scheme  laid,  first,  to  impose  on  Heartfree  by 
means  of  the  count,  and  then  to  cheat  the  count  of  the  booty     .     55 

CHAPTER   III. 

Containing  scenes  of  softness,  love,  and  honor,  all  in  the  great  style    59 

CHAPTER   IV. 

In  which  Wild,  after  many  fruitless  endeavors  to  discover  his  friend, 
moralizes  on  his  misfortune  in  a  speech,  which  may  be  of  use 
(if  rightly  understood)  to  some  other  considerable  speechmakers    65 

CHAPTER  V. 

Containing  many  surprising  adventures,  which  our  hero,  with  great 
greatness,  achieved 68 

CHAPTER   VI. 
Of  hats 73 

CHAPTER   VII. 

Showing  the  consequence  which  attended  Heartfree's  adventures 
with  Wild  ;  all  natural  and  common  enough  to  little  wretches 
who  deal  with  great  men,  together  with  some  precedents  of 
letters,  being  the  different  methods  of  answering  a  dun      .         .     75 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

In  which  our  hero  carries  greatness  to  an  immoderate  height    .        .     79 

CHAPTER   IX. 

More  greatness  in  Wild.  A  low  scene  between  Mrs.  Heartfree  and 
her  children,  and  a  scheme  of  our  hero  worthy  the  highest  ad- 
miration, and  even  astonishment 82 

CHAPTER   X. 
Sea-adventures  very  new  and  surprising 85 

CHAPTER   XI. 

The  great  and  wonderful  behavior  of  our  hero  in  the  boat        »        .    88 


6  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTEE  XII. 

PAGE 

The  strange  and  yet  natural  escape  of  our  hero         .        .       .       .90 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
The  conclusion  of  the  boat  adventure  and  the  end  of  the  second  book    93 


BOOK  III. 

CHAPTER  I. 

The  low  and  pitiful  behavior  of  Heartfree  ;  and  the  foolish  conduct 

of  his  apprentice 96 

CHAPTER   II. 

A  soliloquy  of  Heartfree's,  full  of  low  and  base  ideas,  without  a 
syllable  of  greatness 99 

CHAPTER   III. 
Wherein  our  hero  proceeds  in  the  road  to  greatness  ....  103 

CHAPTER   IV. 

In  which  a  young  hero,  of  wonderful  good  promise,  makes  his  first 
appearance,  with  many  other  great  matters        ....  106 

CHAPTER  V. 

More  and  more  greatness,  unparalleled  in  history  or  romance  .        .  108 

CHAPTER  VI. 

The  event  of  Fireblood's  adventure  ;  and  a  treaty  of  marriage,  which 

might  have  been  concluded  either  at  Smithfield  or  St.  James's  .  113 

CHAPTER   VII. 

Matters  preliminary  to  the  marriage  between  Mr.  Jonathan  Wild  and 

the  chaste  Lsetitia 116 


CONTENTS.  7 

CHAPTER   VIII. 

PAGE 

A  dialogue  matrimonial,  which  passed  between  Jonathan  Wild,  Esq., 
and  Lsetitia,  his  wife,  on  the  morning  of  the  day  fortnight  on 
which  his  nuptials  were  celebrated ;  which  concluded  more 
amicably  than  those  debates  generally  do        .        .        .        .119 

CHAPTER   IX. 

Observations  on  the  foregoing  dialogue,  together  with  a  base  design 
on  our  hero,  which  must  be  detested  by  every  lover  of  greatness  123 

CHAPTER   X. 

Mr.  Wild  with  unprecedented  generosity  visits  his  friend  Heartfree, 
and  the  ungrateful  reception  he  met  with 127 

CHAPTER  XI. 

A  scheme  so  deeply  laid,  that  it  shames  all  the  politics  of  this  our 

age  ;  with  digression  and  subdigression 130 

CHAPTER   XII. 
New  instances  of  Friendly's  folly,  etc 133 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Something  concerning  Fireblood,  which  will  surprise  ;  and  somewhat 
touching  one  of  the  Miss  Snaps,  which  will  greatly  concern  the 
reader 136 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

In  which  our  hero  makes  a  speech  well  worthy  to  be  celebrated  ;  and 
the  behavior  of  one  of  the  gang,  perhaps  more  unnatural  than 
any  other  part  of  this  history 138 


BOOK  IV. 


CHAPTER  I. 


A  sentiment  of  the  ordinary's,  worthy  to  be  written  in  letters  of 
gold ;  a  very  extraordinary  instance  of  folly  in  Friendly  ;  and  a 
dreadful  accident  which  befell  our  hero 144 


8  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   II. 

PAGE 

A  short  hint  concerning  popular  ingratitude.     Mr.  Wild's  arrival  in 
the  castle,  with  other  occurrences  to  be  found  in  no  other  history  148 

CHAPTER   III. 

Curious  anecdotes  relating  to  the  history  of  Newgate        .        .        .  152 

CHAPTER   IV. 

The  dead-warrant  arrives  for  Heartfree ;  on  which  occasion  Wild 
betrays  some  human  weakness 157 

CHAPTER  V. 
Containing  various  matters 159 

CHAPTER   VI. 

In  which  the  foregoing  happy  incident  is  accounted  for    .        .        .  163 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Mrs.  Heartfree  relates  her  adventures        ......  165 

CHAPTER   VIII. 
In  which  Mrs.  Heartfree  continues  the  relation  of  her  adventures    .  171 

CHAPTER   IX. 
Containing  incidents  very  surprising 175 

CHAPTER  X. 
A  horrible  uproar  in  the  Gate 181 

CHAPTER  XI. 
The  conclusion  of  Mrs.  Heartfree's  adventures 183 

CHAPTER   XII. 

The  history  returns  to  the  contemplation  of  greatness      .        .        .  188 

CHAPTER   XIII. 

A  dialogue  between   the   ordinary  of  Newgate  and  Mr.  Jonathan 
Wild  the  Great ;  in  which  the  subjects  of  death,  immortality, 


CONTENTS.  ■> 

and  other  grave  matters,  are  very  learnedly   handled  by    the 
former  .         .         .         .         .         .         •         ■         •        •         .191 

CHAPTER   XIV. 

Wild  proceeds  to  the  highest  consummation  of  human  greatness       .   1i»7 

CHAPTER   XV. 

The  character  of  our  hero,  and  the  conclusion  of  this  history   .         .  201 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


Portrait  of  Charles  I.         .....  Front 

"Having  first  picked  his  pocket  of  three  shillings1' 

"  Moke    words  would  have  been   immediately   succeeded  by 

blows"      .......... 

"She    be-knaved,    re -rascalled,    re-rogued    the    unhappy 

hero"        .......... 

"She  cried,   'I  will  stand  search'"         .... 

"He  embraced  them  with  the  most  passionate  fondness" 
"  He  could  not  forbear  renewing  his  embrace  "    . 
"He  then  advanced  with  a   gentle  air  towards  me"  . 
"And  now  our  hero  and  his  friend  fell  a -boxing  "     . 


page 

spiece 
20 

42 

64 

71 

98 

160 

176 

182 


HENRY  FIELDING. 


There  are,  in  the  history  of  English  literature,  a  few, 
perhaps  too  few,  figures  which  hold  their  place  and  glow 
there  like  fixed  stars  in  the  firmament.  Thanks  to  the 
changes  of  times  and  tastes,  the  great  writers  of  one 
generation  are  relegated  to  obscurity,  or  at  least  to  sub- 
sidiary importance,  by  the  next,  their  title  to  eminence 
becomes  a  matter  of  critical  question,  and  the  qualities 
that  made  them  notable  and  popular  are  caviled  at  and 
belittled.  But  in  the  world  of  English  letters  there  is  one 
figure  that  stands  supreme  and  sound,unsullied  by  detrac- 
tion,and  unaffected  by  carping  dissection  orquerulous  anal- 
ysis, like  one  of  those  statues  of  bronze  that,after  centuries 
of  warfare  and  ages  of  national  ruin,  are  exhumed  in  all 
their  splendid  and  massive  integrity,  to  serve  as  monu- 
ments in  modern  times  to  the  matchless  art  of  a  legend- 
ary and  dimly  defined  past.  Henry  Fielding  was  not  only 
the  first  great  English  novelist,  but  he  remains  to  this 
day,  and  for  all  time,  one  of  the  greatest.  The  mutations 
of  time  and  manners,  and  the  changes  of  fashions  of 
thought  and  of  expression,  that  have  dethroned  so  many 
of  his  contemporaries  and  successors,  have  passed  him  by 
unscathed,  and  if  one  seeks  the  reason  for  his  enduring 
hold  upon  the  living  world,  one  may  find  it,  as  Thackeray 
did,  and  give  it  shape  in  Thackeray's  own  words: 

"  What  a  genius  !  What  a  vigor  !  What  a  bright- 
eyed  intelligence  and  observation  !  What  a  wholesome 
hatred  for  meanness  and  knavery  !  What  a  vast  sym- 
pathy !  What  a  cheerfulness  !  What  a  manly  relish  of 
life  !  Wrhat  a  poet  is  here  ! — watching,  meditating,  brood- 


ii  HENRY  FIELDING. 

ing,  creating- !  What  a  multitude  of  truths  has  that  man 
left  behind  him !  What  generations  he  has  taught  to 
laugh  wisely  and  fairly  !  What  scholars  he  has  formed 
and  accustomed  to  the  exercise  of  thoughtful  humor  and 
the  manly  play  of  wit !  What  a  courage  he  had  !  What 
a  dauntless  and  constant  cheerfulness  of  intellect,  that 
burned  bright  and  steady  through  all  the  storms  of  his 
life,  and  never  deserted  its  last  wreck  !  " 

Here  is  the  whole  secret  of  Henry  Fielding's  literary 
greatness  epitomized  in  a  paragraph.  It  was  his  splen- 
did humanity  that  made  him  great,  upon  the  pages  of 
his  own  creations  as  well  as  upon  the  solemn  pages  of  the 
book  of  life.  He  was,  above  all  things,  a  man  in  thought 
and  deed.  The  physical  picture  Thackeray  draws  of  him 
is  visible  throughout  the  productions  of  his  brain  and 
pen.  "  His  figure  was  tall  and  stalwart ;  his  face  hand- 
some, manly  and  noble-looking  ;  to  the  very  last  days  of 
his  life  he  retained  a  grandeur  of  air.  Although  worn 
down  by  disease,  his  aspect  and  his  presence  imposed 
respect  upon  the  people  round  about  him."  He  was,  says 
Arthur  Murphy,  above  six  feet  in  height,  and  "his  frame 
of  body  large  and  remarkably  robust,"  until  the  gout  had 
broken  the  vigor  of  his  constitution.  Can  one  not  see 
the  living  Henry  Fielding  in  the  large  and  vigorous  style 
of  the  shadowy  Henry  Fielding  that  his  pen  has  left  us — 
in  the  audacious  freedom  of  critical  expression;  the  frank 
fearlessness  of  satire ;  the  courageous  directness  of  his 
attack  upon  the  false,  the  ignoble  and  the  depraved  ? 

The  same  manhood  that  invests  his  works  with  their 
commanding  spirit,  also  mars  them  with  certain  of  the 
coarsenesses  inseparable  from  the  author's  nature  and 
surroundings.  Fielding  lived  in  a  coarse  time,  and  was  a 
part  of  the  time  in  which  he  lived.  It  was  an  age  of 
tavern  clubs  and  tavern  dissipations  ;  when  men's  titles 
to  social  consideration  were  measured  by  the  number  of 
bottles  they  could  empty  ;  when  brutal  midnight  brawls 
heralded  the  way  to  bed,  and  Justice  sat  upon  her  throne 


HENRY  FIELDING.  hi 

with  her  unbandaged  eyes  bloodshot  from  the  revel. 
Through  this  era  Henry  Fielding,  the  man,  passed  "with 
inked  ruffles  and  claret  stains  on  his  tarnished  lace  coat, 
and  on  his  manly  face  the  marks  of  good  fellowship,  of  ill- 
ness, of  kindness  and  care,  and  wine."  But  these  out- 
ward manifestations  of  the  man  of  his  time  left  no  stains 
upon  his  soul.  They  were  inseparable  from  the  life  of  the 
body,  and  as  his  pen  undertook  to  depict  the  life  of  which 
his  body  was  a  part,  with  a  truthfulness  that  should  put 
its  shams  and  scandals  to  shame,  the  picture  naturally 
acquired  some  of  the  indelicacies  and  grossnesses  of  the 
original,  which,  however,  only  serve  to  strengthen  their 
sermon,  and  fortify  their  sound  and  healthy  morality. 

But  in  his  books  and  out  of  them,  in  his  cups,  and  in  the 
sober  senses  which  brought  him  the  anguish  and  remorse 
of  a  strong  mind  conscious  of  its  own  weaknesses  and 
shortcomings,  one  seeks  in  vain  for  any  Henry  Fielding 
but  that  which  bears  the  mint-mark  of  an  honest  man. 
Not  only  honest,  too,  but  generous  as  just,  kindly,  con- 
siderate, unselfish,  full  of  the  sweetness  of  a  noble  nature, 
which  the  abundant  poison  of  an  ignoble  age  and  society 
could  not  spoil.  "  He  will  give  any  man  his  purse," 
says  Thackeray  ;  "he  can't  help  kindness  and  profusion. 
He  may  have  low  tastes,  but  not  a  mean  mind.  He  ad- 
mires with  all  his  heart  good  and  virtuous  men,  stoops  to 
no  flattery,  bears  no  rancor,  disdains  all  dislo3ral  arts,  does 
his  public  duty  uprightly,  is  fondly  loved  by  his  family, 
and  dies  at  his  work." 

II. 

There  was  a  certain  heredity  in  the  robust  manhood 
of  Henry  Fielding.  He  was  the  son  of  a  soldier,  who  had 
won  his  place  of  honor  on  fields  of  battle  under  the  great 
Marlborough.  General  Edmund  Fielding  was  a  grand- 
son of  the  Earl  of  Denbigh,  whose  loyal  life  had  gone  out 
in  futile  defense  of  the  doomed  King  Charles.    There  are 


iv  HENRY  FIELDING. 

other  fighting  Fieldings,  to  be  traced  back  as  far,  at 
least,  as  the  bloody  plain  of  Tewkesbury — a  fine,  strong, 
active  and  courageous  race  it  was, fit  to  breed  honest  men 
and  great  ones,  and  it  reached  a  glorious  culmination  in 
the  descendant  whose  genius  has  set  the  family  name 
ablaze  with  an  immortal  splendor. 

General  Edmund  Fielding,  after  having  fleshed  his 
maiden  sword  in  Flanders,  and  reddened  his  first  spurs 
with  battle  blood  upon  the  continent,  married,  at  the  age 
of  thirty,  Sarah  Gould,  the  daughter  of  an  honest  and 
thrifty  knight,  Sir  Henry  Gould,  of  Sharpham  Park,  near 
Glastonbury,  in  Somerset.  Sir  Henry  was  one  of  the 
judges  of  the  King's  Bench,  and  had  a  handsome  fortune 
and  kept  up  a  good  estate.  When  the  young  soldier 
married  into  his  family  he  also  came  to  live  in  it  in  the 
intervals  of  his  campaigns,  and  it  was  in  the  house  of  his 
grandfather  that,  on  April  22,  1707,  the  novelist,  Henry 
Fielding,  saluted  with  his  first  baby  cry  the  great  world 
in  which  he  was  to  play  his  heroic  part. 

In  1710  Sir  Henry  Gould  died,  and  his  household  was 
broken  up.  By  his  will,  made  m  March,  1706,  Sir  Henry 
left  his  daughter  £3,000,  which  was  to  be  invested  "in 
the  purchase  either  of  a  Church  or  College  lease,  or  of 
lands  of  Inheritance,"  for  her  sole  use,  her  husband 
"having  nothing  to  do  with  it,"  which  would  seem  to 
indicate  that  the  wise  old  knight  had  a  distrust  of  his 
military,  and  possibly  impecunious,  son-in-law.  This 
money  was  to  come  to  her  children  at  the  death  of  Mrs. 
Fielding,  and  was  no  unimportant  part  of  the  family 
estate  while  the  good  lady  was  yet  alive.  Three  thousand 
pounds  in  those  comparatively  primitive  days  meant 
quite  as  much  as  the  quadrupled  sum  means  in  our  waste- 
ful and  extravagant  time. 

Pursuant  of  her  provident  parent's  plan,  Mrs.  General 
Fielding  invested  a  portion  of  her  heritage  in  a  small  es- 
tate at  East  Stour,  in  Dorsetshire,  where  the  General 
and  herself  set  up  their  housekeeping.    At  East  Stour, 


HENRY  FIELDING.  v 

Mr.  Austin  Dobson  tells  us,  according-  to  the  extracts 
from  the  parish  register  given  in  Hutchins's  "  History  of 
Dorset,"  four  children  were  horn  to  the  Fieldings,  namely, 
Sarah,  afterwards  the  authoress  of  "David  Simple;" 
Anne,  Beatrice,  and  another  son,  Edmund.  "  Edmund," 
says  Arthur  Murphy,  "  was  an  officer  in  the  marine  ser- 
vice," and  (adds  Mr.  Lawrence)  "died  young."  Anne 
died  at  East  Stour  in  August,  1716.  Of  Beatrice  nothing 
further  is  known.  These  would  appear  to  have  been  all 
the  children  of  Edmund  Fielding  by  his  first  wife,  al- 
though, as  Sarah  Fielding  is  styled  on  her  monument,  at 
Bath,  the  second  daughter  of  General  Fielding,  it  is  not 
impossible  that  another  daughter  may  have  been  born 
at  Sharpham  Park,  before  or  after  Henry  Fielding  raised 
his  infantile  salutation  to  the  universe  he  was  created  to 
benefit  and  improve. 

"  At  East  Stour,"  continues  Mr.  Dobson,"  the  Fieldings 
certainly  resided  until  April,  1718,  when  Mrs.  Fielding- 
died,  leaving  her  elder  son  a  boy  of  not  quite  eleven  years 
of  age.  How  much  longer  the  family  remained  there  is 
unrecorded  :  but  it  is  clear  that  a  great  part  of  Henry 
Fielding's  childhood  must  have  been  spent  by  the  pleasant 
banks  of  sweetly-winding  Stour,  whicn  passes  through  it, 
and  to  which  he  subsequently  refers  in  'Tom  Jones.'  His 
education  during  this  time  was  confided  to  a  certain  Mr. 
Oliver,  whom  Lawrence  designates  the  family  chaplain. 
Keightley  supposes  that  he  was  the  curate  of  East  Stour ; 
but  Hutchins,  a  better  authority  than  either,  says  that 
he  was  the  clergyman  of  Motcombe,  a  neighboring  village. 
Of  this  gentleman,  according  to  Murphy,  Parson  Trulliber 
in  '  Joseph  Andrews  '  is  a  very  humorous  and  striking 
portrait.  It  is  certainly  more  humorous  than  compli- 
mentary." 

From  Mr.  Oliver's  care  the  boy  was  sent  to  Eton, 
where  Arthur  Murphy  tells  us  rather  snobbishly,  though 
one  can  forgive  snobbery  written  in  Lincoln's  Inn  in  1762, 
I  hope,  that  he  fell  in  with  very  excellent  company.    "Lord 


vi  HENRY  FIELDING. 

Lyttleton,  Mr.  Fox,  Mr.  Pitt,  Sir  Charles  Hanbury  Wil- 
liams and  the  late  Mr.  Winnington,  etc."  George 
Lyttleton  was  later  the  famous  statesman  and  orator. 
Charles  Hanbury  became  the  equally  famous  wit  and 
squib  writer,  when  he  achieved  his  baronetcy  and  ampli- 
fied his  name  by  inheritance.  Poor  Tom  Winnington  his 
old  schoolmate,  fought  many  a  doughty  pen  and  ink 
battle,  for  in  later  years,  when  Tory  lampooners  assailed 
his  honest  memory.  Dr.  Arne,  sweetest  of  old  English 
composers,  was  another  Eton  schoolmate  of  Fielding's, 
and  among  the  shy  boys  the  sturdy  son  of  Marlborough's 
old  campaigner  fought  for  was  Gilbert  West,  the  trans- 
lator of  Pindar. 

There  are  few  records  of  Fielding's  career  at  Eton. 
He  appears  to  have  been  an  apt  student  and  a  forward 
boy.  Murphy  extols  his  accomplishments  in  Greek  and 
Latin,  but  he  himself  depreciates  them,  and  in  one  of  nis 
own  verses  to  Walpole  some  years  later,  Fielding  says  : 

"  Tuscan  and  French  are  in  my  Head ; 
Latin  I  write,  and  Greek  I — read." 

However  this  may  have  been,  it  is  certain  that,  as  Mr. 
Dobson  puts  it,  "during  his  stay  at  Eton,  Fielding  had 
been  rapidly  developing  from  a  boy  into  a  young  man. 
When  he  left  school  it  is  impossible  to  say  ;  but  he  was 
probably  seventeen  or  eighteen  years  of  age,  and  it  is  at 
this  stage  of  his  career  that  must  be  fixed  an  occurrence 
which  some  of  his  biographers  place  much  farther  on. 
This  is  his  earliest  recorded  love  affair." 

The  object  of  his  early  ripened  passion  was  a  young 
lady  of  Lyme  Regis,  the  only  daughter  and  heiress  of 
one  Solomon  Andrew,  deceased,  a  merchant  of  consider- 
able local  reputation.  Lawrence  says  that  she  was  Field- 
ing's cousin.  This  may  be  so  ;  but  the  statement  is 
unsupported  by  any  authority.  She  was  living  at  Lyme 
with  one  of  her  guardians,  Mr.  Andrew  Tucker,  when  in 
his  chance  visits  to  that  place,  young  Fielding  became 
desperately  enamored  of  her.    At  one  time  he  seems  to 


HENRY  FIELDING.  vii 

have  actually  meditated  the  abduction  of  his  flame, 
for  an  entry  in  the  town  archives,  discovered  by  Mr. 
George  Roberts,  sometime  Mayor  of  Lyme,  who  tells 
the  story,  declares  that  Andrew  Tucker,  Esq.,  went  in  fear 
of  his  life  ''owing-  to  the  behavior  of  Henry  Fielding-  and 
his  attendant,  or  man."  But  Miss  Andrew  was  pru- 
dently transferred  to  the  care  of  another  guardian,  Mr. 
Rhodes,  of  Modbury,  in  South  Devon,  to  whose  son,  a 
young  gentleman  of  Oxford,  she  was  promptly  married  ; 
and  the  next  we  know  of  young  Henry  Fielding,  he  had 
been  shipped  off  to  Lej^den  to  learn  civil  law,  until  all  of 
a  sudden  a  not  unusual  accident  happened  to  him. 

His  remittances  failed,  his  debts  oppressed,  and  his 
duns  bothered  him.  His  father,  never  a  rich  man,  had 
married  again.  His  second  wife  was  a  widow  named 
Eleanor  Rasa,  and  by  this  time  he  was  fast  acquiring  a 
a  second  family.  Under  the  pressure  of  his  growing 
cares,  he  found  himself,  however  willing,  unable  to  main- 
tain his  eldest  son  or  to  discharge  his  expenses  at  Ley- 
den.  So  Henry  took  his  departure  from  the  University 
between  days.  At  the  end  of  1727  or  the  commencement 
of  1728, he  set  foot  in  London,  thereto  commence  as  black 
and  bitter  a  battle  as  genius  ever  fought  with  the  selfish 
world. 

III. 

His  father,  nominally,  made  him  an  allowance  of  two 
hundred  a  year  ;  but  this,  as  Fielding  himself  explained, 
"anybody  might  pay  that  would ."  The  consequence  was 
that  not  long  after  the  arrival  of  the  latter  m  the  Metrop- 
olis, he  had  given  up  all  idea  of  pursuing  the  law,  to 
which  his  mother's  legal  connections  had  perhaps  first 
attracted  him,  and  had  determined  to  adopt  the  more 
seductive  occupation  of  living  by  his  wits.  At  this  date 
he  was  in  the  prime  of  youth.  He  possessed  every  physi- 
cal characteristic  calculated  to  attract  temptation.  He 
had  the  constitution  of  an  ox,  the  beauty  of  a  young*  god, 


viii  HENRY  FIELDING. 

and  the  good  heart  of  a  Henry  Fielding.      Is  it  not  easy 
to  prefigure  the  result  ? 

His  cousin,  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montague,  writing  of 
his  experiences  at  this  period,  gives  a  delicate  hint  at 
their  complexion.  "  No  man,"  says  she,  "  enjoyed  life 
more  than  he  did.  His  happy  constitution,  even  when  he 
had  with  very  great  pains  half  demolished  it,  made  him 
forget  every  evil,  when  he  was  before  a  venison  pasty, 
or  over  a  glass  of  champagne,  and,  I  am  persuaded,  ne 
has  known  more  happy  moments  than  any  prince  upon 
earth.  His  natural  spirits  gave  him  rapture  with  his 
cook-maid,  and  cheerfulness  when  he  was  starving  in  a 
garret.  There  was  a  great  similitude  between  his  char- 
acter and  that  of  Sir  Richard  Steele.  He  had  the  advan- 
tage, both  in  learning  and,  in  my  opinion,. genius;  they 
both  agreed  in  wanting  money,  in  spite  of  all  their 
friends,  and  would  have  wanted  it,  if  their  heredita^ 
lands  had  been  as  extensive  as  their  imagination  ;  yet 
each  of  them  was  so  formed  for  happiness,  it  is  pity  he 
was  not  immortal 

Some  resources,  as  Sir  Walter  Scott  puts  it,  were 
necessary  for  a  man  of  pleasure,  and  Fielding  found  them 
in  his  pen,  having,  as  he  used  to  say  himself,  no  alterna- 
tive but  to  be  a  hackney  writer  or  a  hackney  coachman. 
He  at  first  employed  himself  in  writing  for  the  theatre, 
then  in  high  reputation,  having  recently  engaged  the 
talents  of  Wycherly,  of  Congreve,  Vanbrugh,  and  Far- 
quhar.  Fielding's  comedies  and  farces  were  brought  on 
the  stage  in  hasty  succession ;  and  play  after  play,  to  the 
number  of  eighteen,  sunk  or  swam  on  the  theatrical  sea 
betwixt  the  years  1727  and  1736.  None  of  these  are  now 
known  or  read,  excepting  the  mock  tragedy  of  "  Tom 
Thumb,"  the  translated  play  of  "  The  Miser,"  and  the 
farces  of  "The  Mock  Doctor,"  and  "Intriguing  Cham- 
bermaid," and  yet  they  are  the  production  of  an  author 
unrivaled  for  his  conception  and  illustration  of  charac- 
ter in  the  kindred  walk  of  imaginary  narrative. 


HENRY  FIELDING,  ix 

But  Fielding's  genius  was  essentially  that  of  the  nov- 
elist, though  he  had  not  yet  discovered  this  fact ;  to  him 
the  theatre  was  the  first  road  to  fortune  and  popular  pre- 
ferment. His  first  dramatic  essay — or,  to  speak  more 
precisely,  the  first  of  his  dramatic  essays  that  was  pro- 
duced upon  the  stage — was  a  five-act  comedy  entitled 
"  Love  in  Several  Masques."  It  was  played  at  Drury 
Lane,  in  February,  1728,  succeeding  "  The  Provoked 
Husband."  In  his  preface,  the  young  author  refers  to 
the  disadvantage  under  which  he  labored  in  following 
close  upon  that  comedy,  and  also  in  being  "  cotemporary 
with  an  Entertainment  which  engrosses  the  whole  Talk 
and  Admiration  of  the  Town," — i.  e.  "  The  Beggar's  Op- 
era." Still  he  stuck  to  his  work.  Year  after  year,  until 
1736,  he  produced  comedies,  satires  and  the  like,  which 
were  almost  as  soon  forgotten  as  they  were  produced 
upon  the  stage. 

During  this  period  Fielding  lived  the  life  of  a  man  of 
wit  and  pleasure  about  town.  He  stretched  out  his 
meagre  and  precarious  earnings  from  the  stage  by  pri- 
vate levies  on  better -to-do  friends,  and  sought  and  found 
his  amusement  in  the  manifold  scenes  of  gayety  and  dissi- 
pation provided  by  the  gay  and  dissipated  town.  He 
even  became,  for  a  time,  the  manager  of  a  theatrical  com- 
pany, and,  no  doubt,  got  his  fill  of  this  responsible  in- 
volvment.  In  1735  he  opened  at  the  little  theatre  m  the 
Haymarket,  with  "  The  Great  Mogul's  Companj^  of  Com- 
edians," made  up  of  discarded  actors  of  other  theatres  by 
whom  he  proposed  to  have  his  own  plays  acted.  The 
venture  fell  as  flat  as  the  satire  of  its  title.  It  exploded 
and  left  him  even  poorer  than  he  had  been  before. 

Then  he  sought  and  found  at  least  passing  relief  in 
matrimony.  He  had  for  some  years  been  acquainted 
with  a  good  and  beautiful  girl  at  Salisbury,  who  pos- 
sessed the  additional  attraction  of  a  small  fortune,  some 
£1,500.  Her  name  was  Charlotte  Cradock,  and  he  made 
her  Mrs.  Fielding  in  1736.     As  if  fortune  never  came  by 


x  HENRY  FIELDING. 

halves,  he  also,  at  the  same  time,  fell  into  a  small  estate 
of  £200  a  year,  part  of  his  mother's  property  at  Stour. 

There  is  a  touch  of  genuine  comedy  about  this  portion 
of  Fielding's  life.  He  retired  to  his  little  estate  at  Stour 
with  his  wife,  and  on  the  income  of  £200,  and  her  poor 
dowry  of  £1,500,  set  up  the  state  of  a  great  lord  for  their 
honeymoon.     As  Murphy  tells  : 

"  He  began  immediately  to  vie  in  splendor  with  the 
neighboring  country  squires,  encumbered  himself  with  a 
large  retinue  of  servants,  all  clad  in  costly  yellow  liver- 
ies. For  their  master's  honor,  these  people  could  not 
descend  so  low  as  to  be  careful  in  their  apparel,  but,  in  a 
month  or  two  were  unfit  to  be  seen ;  the-  squire's  dig- 
nity required  that  they  should  be  new-equipped  ;  and  his 
chief  pleasure  consisting  in  society  and  convivial  mirth, 
hospitality  threw  open  his  doors.  Entertainments, 
hounds,  and  horses,  entirely  devoured  a  little  patrimony, 
which,  had  it  been  managed  with  economy,  might  have 
secured  to  him  a  state  of  independence  for  the  rest  of  his 
life." 

And  so  Henry  Fielding  was  on  the  town  again,  this 
time  with  a  wife  upon  his  shiftless  hands,  that  could  not 
provide  for  himself  alone. 

It  is  to  the  pressure  of  this  necessity  that  the  world 
owes  Henry  Fielding,  the  immortal  novelist,  where,  under 
temporarily  happier  circumstances,  Henry  Fielding,  the 
playwright,  might  have  otherwise  been  forgotten. 

IV. 

When  the  wreck  of  his  country  fortune  left  him 
stranded  once  more  on  the  merciless  reefs  of  London, 
Fielding,  like  the  drowning  man  grasping  at  the  least 
stray  bit  of  flotsam  for  relief,  turned  his  vagrant  atten- 
tion to  the  law,  for  which  he  had  been  originally  destined. 
The  passage  of  the  Licensing  Act  put  an  end  to  his  the- 
atrical career.     The  frank  effrontery  of  his  satire  had  be- 


HENRY  FIELDING.  xi 

gun  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  Ministry,  and  a  bill 
was  framed  to  restrict  the  unbounded  license  of  the  stage, 
and  give  the  Lord  Chamberlain  the  power  of  censorship 
he  holds  in  England  to  this  day.  Fielding  bowed  to  his 
fate.  He  renounced  the  stage,  and  with  a  wife  and 
daughter  to  support,  at  the  age  of  thirty,  entered  at  the 
Temple  as  a  student  of  the  law. 

If  Murphy  is  to  be  believed,  Fielding  devoted  himself 
henceforth  with  remarkable  assiduity  to  serious  work. 
His  old  irregularity  of  life,  it  is  alleged,  occasionally  as- 
serted itself,  though  without  checking  the  energy  of  his 
application.  "  This,"  says  his  first  biographer,  "  pre- 
vailed in  him  to  such  a  degree,  that  ne  nas  been  fre- 
quently known  by  his  intimates  to  retire  late  at  night 
from  a  tavern  to  his  chambers,  and  there  read,  and  make 
extracts  from  the  most  abstruse  authors  for  several  hours 
before  he  went  to  bed ;  so  powerful  were  the  vigor  of  his 
constitution  and  the  activity  of  his  mind."  It  is  to  this 
passage,  no  doubt,  says  Mr.  Dobson,  we  owe  the  pictur- 
esque wet  towel  and  inked  ruffles  with  which  Mr.  Thack- 
eray has  decorated  him  in  "Pendennis ;"  and,  in  all 
probability,  a  good  deal  of  graphic  writing  from  less  able 
pens  respecting  his  modus  Vivendi  as  a  Templar.  In 
point  of  fact,  nothing  is  known  with  certainty  respecting 
his  life  at  this  period  ;  and  what  it  would  really  concern 
us  to  learn — namely,  whether  by  "  chambers,"  it  is  to  be 
understood  that  he  was  living  alone,  and,  if  so,  where 
Mrs.  Fielding  was  at  the  time  of  these  protracted  vigils 
— Murphy  has  not  told  us.  Perhaps  she  was  safe  all  the 
while  at  East  Stour,  or  with  her  sisters  at  Salisbury. 
Having  no  precise  information,  however,  it  can  only  be 
recorded  that,  in  spite  of  the  fitful  outbreaks  above  re- 
ferred to,  Fielding  applied  himself  to  the  study  of  his 
profession  with  all  the  vigor  of  a  man  who  has  to  make 
up  for  lost  time ;  and  that,  when  on  the  20th  of  June, 
1740,  the  day  came  for  bis  being  called,  he  was  very 
fairly  equipped  with  legal  knowledge.    It  is  certain  that 


xii  HENRY  FIELDING. 

he  made  a  host  of  lawyer  friends  during"  this  period,  and 
that  he  made  a  good  magistrate,  when,  in  later  years,  he 
went  upon  the  bench. 

He  found  time  to  do  not  a  little  waiting  for  hire  during 
this  studious  intermission  in  his  stirring  life.  According 
to  Scott,  too,  he  labored  under  serious  difficulties.  Dis- 
ease, the  consequence  of  a  free  life,  came  to  the  aid  of  dis- 
sipation, and  severe  fits  of  the  gout  gradually  impaired 
his  robust  constitution.  Still  he  tugged  at  the  oar,  and 
one  of  his  productions  of  this  period  was  The  Champion, 
a  paper  on  the  model  of  the  elder  essayists.  It  was 
issued,  like  The  Tatler,  on  Tuesdays,  Thursdays  and 
Saturdays.  Murphy  says  that  Fielding's  part  in  it  can- 
not now  be  ascertained;  but,  says  Mr.  Dobson,  as  the 
"Advertisement"  to  the  edition  in  two  volumes  of  1741 
states  expressly  that  the  papers  signed  C.  and  L.  are  the 
"Work  of  One  Hand,"  and  as  a  number  of  those  signed 
C.  are  unmistakably  Fielding's,  it  is  hard  to  discover 
where  the  difficulty  lay.  The  papers  signed  C.  and  L. 
are  by  far  the  most  numerous,  the  majority  of  the  re- 
mainder being  distinguished  by  two  stars,  or  the  signa- 
ture "Lilbourne."  These  are  understood  to  have  been 
from  the  pen  of  James  Ralph,  whose  poem  of  "Night" 
gave  rise  to  a  stinging  couplet  in  "The  Dunciad,"  but 
who  was  nevertheless  a  man  of  parts,  and  an  industrious 
writer.  Fielding  made  his  famous  attacks  on  Colley 
Abber  in  The  Champion,  and  seems  to  have  discontinued 
his  connection  with  it  when  he  was  admitted  to  the  bar. 

He  did  not  entirety  suspend  his  literary  activity,  how- 
ever. In  Sylvanus  Urban's  "Register  of  Books,"  pub- 
lished during  January,  1741,  is  advertised  the  poem  "Of 
True  Greatness,"  afterwards  included  in  the  "Miscel- 
lanies;" and  the  same  authority  announces  the  "Ver- 
noniad,"  an  anonymous  burlesque  epic  prompted  by 
Admiral  Vernon's  popular  expedition  against  Porto  Bello 
in  1739,  "with  six  Ships  only."  That  Fielding  was  the 
author  of  the  latter  is  sufficiently  proved  by  his  order  to 


HENRY  FIELDING.  xiii 

Mr.  Nourse  (printed  in  Roscoe's  edition),  to  deliver  fifty 
copies  to  Mr.  Chappel.  Another  sixpenny  pamphlet,  en- 
titled "The  Opposition,  a  Vision,"  issued  in  December  of 
the  same  year,  is  enumerated  by  him,  in  the  Preface 
to  the  "Miscellanies,"  amongst  the  few  works  he  pub- 
lished "since  the  end  of  June,  1741;"  and,  provided  it  can 
be  placed  before  this  date,  he  may  be  credited  with  a 
political  sermon  called  "The  Crisis"  (1741),  which  is  as- 
cribed to  him  upon  the  authority  of  a  writer  in  Nichols' 
"Anecdotes."  All  this  is,  however,  but  fugitive  and 
trifling-  work,  and  of  no  special  value,  except  as  illustrat- 
ing the  necessities  to  which  he  was  put  to  earn  a  little 
money. 

It  is  tolerably  certain  that,  whatever  his  private  means 
may  have  been,  and  they  were  probably  nothing  at  all, 
Fielding's  ready  pen  contrived  to  support  himself  and  his 
family,  to  which  he  was  fondly  attached,  until,  says 
Scott,  amid  this  anxious  career  of  precarious  expedient 
and  constant  labor,  he  had  the  misfortune  to  lose  his 
wife ;  and  his  grief  at  this  domestic  calamity  was  so  ex- 
treme, that  his  friends  became  alarmed  for  the  conse- 
quences to  his  reason.  The  violence  of  the  emotion,  how- 
ever, was  transient,  though  his  regret  was  lasting ;  and 
the  necessity  of  subsistence  compelled  him  again  to  re- 
sume his  literary  labors.  At  length,  in  the  year  1741  or 
1742,  circumstances  induced  him  to  engage  in  a  mode  of 
composition  which  he  retrieved  from  the  disgrace  in 
which  he  found  it,  and  rendered  a  classical  department 
of  British  literature. 

This  inestimable  boon  English  literature  owes  to  a 
writer  the  antithesis  of  the  manly  and  thoroughly  honest 
and  sincere  Henry  Fielding.  It  was  the  burning  spirit 
of  satire  in  Fielding,  and  the  incredible  affectation  and 
literary  prudery  of  Richardson,  that  laid  the  foundation 
for  the  English  novel  of  all  time,  in  the  satirization  of 
"Pamela"  by  "Joseph  Andrews." 


xiv  HENRY  FIELDING. 


V. 


No  better  summary  can  be  made  of  tbis  historical 
cornerstone  to  the  future  fiction  of  the  English  language, 
than  is  given  by  Sir  Walter  Scott  in  his  sketch  of  the 
author's  life.  Scott,  writing  of  the  book,  its  origin  and 
its  character,  says : 

"  The  novel  of  '  Pamela,'  published  in  1740,  had  carried 
the  fame  of  Richardson  to  the  highest  pitch ;  and  Field- 
ing, whether  he  was  tired  of  hearing  it  overpraised  (for 
a  book,  several  passages  of  which  would  now  be  thought 
highly  indelicate,  was  in  those  days  even  recommended 
from  the  pulpit),  or  whether,  as  a  writer  for  daily  sub- 
sistance,  he  caught  at  whatever  interested  the  public  for 
the  time ;  or  whether,  in  fine,  he  was  seduced  by  that 
wicked  spirit  of  wit,  which  cannot  forbear  turning  into 
ridicule  the  idol  of  the  day,  resolved  to  caricature  the 
style,  principles,  and  personages  of  this  favorite  perform- 
ance. As  Gay's  desire  to  satirize  Philips  gave  rise  to  the 
'  Shepherd's  Week,'  so  Fielding's  purpose  to  ridicule 
'  Pamela  '  produced  '  The  History  of  Joseph  Andrews '; 
and  in  both  cases,  but  especially  in  the  latter,  a  work  was 
executed  infinitely  better  than  could  have  been  expected 
to  arise  out  of  such  a  motive,  and  the  reader  received  a 
degree  of  pleasure  far  superior  to  what  the  author  him- 
self appears  to  have  proposed.  There  is,  indeed,  a  fine 
vein  of  irony  in  Fielding's  novel,  as  will  appear  from 
comparing  it  with  the  pages  of  '  Pamela.'  But  '  Pa- 
mela,' to  which  that  irony  was  applied,  is  now  in  a 
manner  forgotten,  and  '  Joseph  Andrews '  continues  to 
be  read,  for  the  admirable  pictures  of  manners  which  it 
presents ;  and  above  all,  for  the  inimitable  character  of 
Mr.  Abraham  Adams,  which  alone  is  sufficient  to  stamp 
the  superiority  of  Fielding  over  all  writers  of  his  class. 
His  learning,  his  simplicity,  his  evangelical  purity  of 
mind,  and   benevolence  of  disposition,  are  so  admirably 


HENRY  FIELDING.  xv 

mingled  with  pedantry,  absence  of  mind,  and  with  the 
habit  of  athletic  and  gymnastic  exercise,  then  acquired 
at  the  universities  by  students  of  all  descriptions,  that  he 
may  be  safely  termed  one  of  the  richest  productions  of 
the  Muse  of  fiction.  Like  Don  Quixote,  Parson  Adams  is 
beaten  a  little  too  much,  and  too  often ;  but  the  cudgel 
lights  upon  his  shoulders,  as  on  those  of  the  honored 
Knight  of  La  Mancha,  without  the  slightest  stain  to  his 
reputation,  and  he  is  bastinadoed  without  being  de- 
graded. The  style  of  this  piece  is  said,  in  the  preface,  to 
have  been  an  imitation  of  Cervantes ;  but  both  in 
'  Joseph  Andrews '  and  '  Tom  Jones  '  the  author  ap- 
pears also  to  have  had  in  view  the  '  Roman  Comique ' 
of  the  once  celebrated  Scarron.  From  this  authority  he 
has  copied  the  mock-heroic  style,  which  tells  ludicrous 
events  in  the  language  of  the  classical  epic,  a  vein  of 
pleasantry  which  is  soon  wrought  out,  and  which  Field- 
ing has  employed  so  often  as  to  expose  him  to  the  charge 
of  pedantry. 

"  'Joseph  Andrews  '  was  eminently  successful ;  and  the 
aggrieved  Richardson,  who  was  fond  of  praise  even  to 
adulation,  was  proportionally  offended,  while  his  group 
of  admirers,  male  and  female;  took  care  to  echo  back  his 
sentiments,  and  to  heap  Fielding  with  reproach  Their 
animosity  survived  his  life,  and  we  find  the  most  ungen- 
erous reproaches  thrown  upon  his  memory,  in  the  course 
of  Richardson's  correspondence.  Richardson  was  well 
acquainted  with  Fielding's  sisters,  and  complained  to 
them — not  of  Fielding's  usage  of  himself,  that  he  was  too 
wise,  or  too  proud  to  mention,  but — of  his  unfortunate 
predilection  to  what  was  mean  and  low  in  character  and 
description.  The  following  expressions  are  remarkable, 
as  well  for  the  extreme  modesty  of  the  writer,  who  thus 
rears  himself  into  the  paramount  judge  of  Fielding's 
qualities,  and  for  the  delicacy  which  could  intrude  such 
observations  on  the  ear  of  his  rival's  sister :  '  Poor  Field- 
ing !  I  could  not  help  telling  his  sister,  that  I  was  equally 


xvi  HENRY  FIELDING 

surprised  at,  and  concerned  for,  his  continued  lowness. 
Had  your  brother,  said  I,  been  born  in  a  stable,  or  been 
a  runner  at  a  spunging  house,  one  should  have  thought 
him  a  genius,  and  wished  he  had  had  the  advantage  of  a 
liberal  education,  and  of  being  admitted  into  good  com- 
pany.'  After  this  we  are  not  surprised  at  its  being 
alleged  that  Fielding  was  destitute  of  invention  and 
talents ;  that  the  run  of  his  best  works  was  nearly  over ; 
and  that  he  would  soon  be  forgotten  as  an  author. 
Fielding  does  not  appear  to  have  retorted  any  of  this  ill 
will,  so  that,  if  he  gave  the  first  offense,  and  that  an  un- 
provoked one,  he  was  also  the  first  to  retreat  from  the 
contest,  and  to  allow  to  Richardson  those  claims  which 
his  genius  really  demanded  from  the  liberality  of  his  con- 
temporaries. In  the  fifth  number  of  the  Jacobite  Journal, 
Fielding  highly  commends  '  Clarissa/  which  is  by  far 
the  best  and  most  powerful  of  Richardson's  novels ;  and, 
with  these  scenes  in  '  Sir  Charles  Grandison '  which 
refer  to  the  history  of  Clementina,  contains  the  passages 
of  deep  pathos  on  which  his  claim  to  immortality  must 
finally  rest.  Perhaps  this  is  one  of  the  cases  in  which 
one  would  rather  have  sympathized  with  the  thoughtless 
offender,  than  with  the  illiberal  and  ungenerous  mind 
which  so  long  retained  its  resentment." 

"The  History  of  the  Adventures  of  Josepn  Andrews, 
and  of  his  friend  Mr.  Abraham  Adams,"  was  published  by 
Andrew  Millar  in  February,  1742.  Mr.  Dobson  tells  us 
that  various  anecdotes,  all  more  or  less  apocryphal,  have 
been  related  respecting  the  first  appearance  of  Joseph 
Andrews,  and  the  sum  paid  to  the  author  for  the  copy- 
right. A  reference  to  the  original  assignment,  now  in 
the  Foster  Library  at  South  Kensington,  definitely  settles 
the  latter  point.  The  amount  in  "  lawful  Money  of  Great 
Britain,"  received  by  "  Henry  Fielding,  Esq.,"  from  "An- 
drew Millar  of  -St.  Clement's  Danes  in  the  Strand,"  was 
£183.  lis.  In  this  document,  as  in  the  order  to  bourse,  of 
which  a  fac  simile  is  given  by  Roscoe,  both  the  author's 


HENRY  FIELDING.  xvii 

name  and  signature  are  written  with  the  old-fashioned 
double  f,  and  he  calls  himself  "  Fielding- "  and  not "  Feild- 
ing,"  like  the  rest  of  the  Denbigh  family.  If  we  may  trust 
an  anecdote  given  by  Kippis,  Lord  Denbigh  once  asked 
his  kinsman  the  reason  of  this  difference. 

"I  cannot  tell,  my  lord,"  returned  the  novelist,  "unless 
it  be  that  my  branch  of  the  family  was  the  first  that 
learned  to  spell." 

Fielding  was  careful  to  disclaim  any  personal  portrait- 
ure in  "Joseph  Andrews."  In  the  opening  chapter  to  Book 
III,  he  declares  that  he  "describes  not  men,  but  manners; 
not  an  individual,  but  a  species,"  though  he  admits  that 
his  characters  are  "  taken  from  Life."  In  his  "  Preface  " 
he  reiterates  this  profession,  adding  that,  in  copying 
from  nature,  he  has  "used  the  utmost  Care  to  obscure 
the  Persons  by  such  different  Circumstances,  Degrees, 
and  Colours,  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  guess  at  them 
with  any  degree  of  certainty."  Nevertheless  neither  his 
protests  nor  his  skill  have  prevented  some  of  those  iden- 
tifications which  are  so  seductive  to  the  curious ;  and  it 
is  generally  believed — indeed,  it  was  expressly  stated  by 
Richardson  and  others — that  the  prototype  of  Parson 
Adams  was  a  friend  of  Fielding,  the  Reverend  "William 
Young.  Like  Adams,  he  was  a  scholar  and  devoted  to 
^Eschylus :  he  resembled  him,  too,  in  his  trick  of  snap- 
ping his  fingers,  and  his  habitual  absence  of  mind.  Of 
this  latter  peculiarity  it  is  related  that  on  one  occasion, 
when  a  chaplain  in  Marlborough's  wars,  he  strolled  ab- 
stractedly into  the  enemy's  lines  with  his  beloved  "  JEs- 
chylus"  in  his  hand.  His  peaceable  intentions  were  so 
unmistakable  that  he  was  instantly  released,  and  politely 
directed  to  his  regiment.  Once,  too,  it  is  said,  on  being 
charged  by  a  gentleman  with  sitting  for  the  portrait  of 
Adams,  he  offered  to  knock  the  speaker  down,  thereby 
supplying  additional  proof  of  the  truth  of  the  allegation. 
He  died  in  August,  1756,  and  is  buried  in  the  chapel  of 
Chelsea  Hospital.     The  obituary  notice  in  the   Gentle- 


xviii  HENRY  FIELDING. 

man's  Magazine  describes  him  as  "  late  of  Gillingham, 
Dorsetshire,"  which  would  make  him  a  neighbor  of  the 
novelist. 

Lord  Thurlow,  it  may  be  worth  noting-,  was  accustomed 
to  find  a  later  likeness  to  Fielding's  hero  in  his  protege,  the 
poet  Crabbe.  Contemporary  tradition,  It  may  be  added, 
connects  Mr.  Peter  Pounce  with  the  scrivener  and  usurer, 
Peter  Walter,  whom  Pope  had  satirized,  and  whom  Ho- 
garth is  thought  to  have  introduced  into  Plate  I  of  "Mar- 
riage a-la-Mode."  His  sister  lived  at  Salisbury;  and  he 
himself  had  an  estate  at  Stalbridge  Park,  which  was  close 
to  East  Stour.  From  references  to  Walter  in  The.  Cham- 
pion for  May  31, 1740,  as  well  as  in  the  essay  on  "Conver- 
sation," it  is  clear  that  Fielding  knew  him  personally,  and 
disliked  him.  He  may,  indeed,  have  been  amongst  those 
county  magnates  whose  criticism  was  so  objectionable  to 
Captain  Booth  during  his  brief  residence  in  Dorsetshire. 
Parson  Trulliber,  also,  according  to  Murphy,  was  Field- 
ing's first  tutor— Mr.  Oliver  of  Motcombe.  But  his 
widow  denied  the  resemblance,  and  it  is  hard  to  believe 
that  this  portait  is  not  overcharged. 

"  But  even  the  high  praise  due  to  the  construction  and 
arrangement  of  the  story  is  inferior  to  that  claimed  by 
the  truth,  force,  and  spirit  of  the  characters,  from  Tom 
Jones  himself,  down  to  Black  George  the  gamekeeper,  and 
his  family.  Amongst  these  Squire  Western  stands  alone; 
imitated  from  no  prototype,  and  in  himself  an  inimitable 
picture  of  ignorance,  prejudice,  irascibility,  and  rusticity, 
united  with  natural  shrewdness,  constitutional  good  hu- 
mor, and  an  instinctive  affection  for  his  daughter— all 
which  qualities,  good  and  bad,  are  grounded  upon  that 
basis  of  thorough  selfishness  natural  to  one  bred  up  from 
infancy  where  no  one  dared  to  contradict  his  arguments, 
or  to  control  his  conduct.  In  one  incident  alone  we  think 
Fielding  has  departed  from  this  admirable  sketch.  As 
an  English  squire,  Western  ought  not  to  have  taken  a 
beating  so  unresistingly  from  the  friend  of  Lord  Fella- 


HENRY  FIELDING.  xix 

mar.  We  half  suspect  the  passage  to  be  an  inter- 
polation. It  is  inconsistent  with  the  squire's  readiness  to 
engage  in  rustic  affrays.  We  grant  a  pistol  or  sword 
might  have  appalled  him,  but  Squire  Western  should 
have  yielded  to  no  one  in  the  use  of  the  English  horse- 
whip— and  as,  with  all  his  brutalities,  we  have  a  sneak- 
ing interest  in  the  honest,  jolly  country  gentleman,  we 
would  willingly  hope  there  is  some  mistake  in  this  mat- 
ter. 

"The  character  of  Jones,  otherwise  a  model  of  generos- 
ity, openness,  manly  spirit  mingled  with  thoughtless  dis- 
sipation, is  in  like  manner  unnecessarily  degraded  by  the 
nature  of  his  intercourse  with  Lady  Bellas  ton;  and  this 
is  one  of  the  circumstances  which  incline  us  to  believe 
that  Fielding's  ideas  of  what  was  gentleman-like  and 
honorable,  had  sustained  some  depreciation,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  unhappy  circumstances  of  his  life  and  of 
the  society  to  which  they  condemned  him." 

A  more  sweeping  and  general  objection  was  made 
against  "The  History  of  a  Foundling,"  by  the  admirers  of 
Richardson,  and  has  been  often  repeated  since.  It  is  al- 
leged that  the  ultimate  moral  of  "Tom  Jones,"  which 
conducts  to  happiness,  and  holds  up  to  our  sympathy  and 
esteem  a  youth  who  gives  way  to  licentious  habits,  is 
detrimental  to  society,  and  tends  to  encourage  the  youth- 
ful reader  in  the  practice  of  those  follies  to  which  his  nat- 
ural passions  and  the  usual  course  of  the  world  but  too 
much  direct  him.  But  such  prurient  moralists  as  Rich- 
ardson and  his  friends  were  scarcely  competent  critics  of 
so  robust  and  manly  a  genius  as  Henry  Fielding. 

Dr.  Johnson  took  a  broader  view  of  it,  and  heartily 
endorsed  "  Tom  Jones."  The  public  coincided  with  him. 
Plagiarism  seized  upon  it,  and  within  a  year,  in  the  same 
way  as  "Pamela"  had  its  sequel  in  "Pamela's  Con- 
duct in  High  Life,"  so  "  Tom  Jones  "  was  continued  in 
"  The  History  of  Tom  Jones  the  Foundling,  in  His  Mar- 
ried State,"  a  second  edition  of  which  was  issued  in  1750. 


xx  HENRY  FIELDING. 

The  preface  announces  that  "  Henry  Fielding",  Esq.,  is 
not  the  Author  of  this  Book,"  a  statement  which  no  one 
who  read  the  book  needed. 

As  might  perhaps  be  anticipated,  "  Tom  Jones  " 
attracted  the  dramatist  also.  In  1765  one  J.  H.  Steffens 
made  a  comedy  of  it  for  the  German  boards ;  and  in 
1785  a  M.  Desforges  based  upon  it  another,  called  "  Tom 
Jones  a  Londres,"  which  was  acted  at  the  Theatre 
Francais.  It  was  also  turned  into  a  comic  opera  by 
Joseph  Reed  in  1769,  and  played  at  Covent  Garden.  Bat 
its  most  piquant  transformation  is  the  Comedie  lyrique 
of  Poinsinet,  acted  at  Paris  in  1765-6  to  the  lively  music 
of  Philidor.  The  famous  Caillot  took  the  part  of  Squire 
Western.  "  Tom  Jones  "  was,  also,  recently  made  the 
foundation  for  a  play  by  Robert  Buchanan,  called  "  So- 
phia," which  was  produced  with  some  success  in  London. 
The  book  has  been  translated  into  French,  German, 
Polish,  Dutch,  Spanish,  Swedish,  and  Russian,  in  all  of 
which  tongues  it  has  found  enthusiastic  admirers. 

The  first  French  translation  was  that  of  De  la  Place,  in 
1750.  This  translation  was  abridged  and  much  emascu- 
lated, in  spite  of  which  it  was  prohibited  in  France  (to 
Richardson's  delight,  of  course)  by  royal  decree,  an  act 
which  affords  another  instance,  in  Scott's  words,  of  that 
"  French  delicacy,  which,  on  so  many  occasions,  has 
strained  at  a  gnat  and  swallowed  a  camel,"  that  is  to  say, 
the  novels  of  M.  Crebillon  fils,  which  it  would  require  a 
bold  publisher  to  put  into  English. 

VI. 

Fielding  made  one  more  appearance  as  a  dramatist 
after  the  success  of  "  Joseph  Andrews,"  and  it  proved  a 
failure.  It  is  to  be  noted,  par  parenthese,  that  in  spite 
of  his  fecundity  as  a  dramatic  writer  he  never  rose  to  the 
dignity  of  making  a  decent  living  off  the  stage.  It  was  a 
succession  of  shifts  and  devices,  tiding  over  between  one 


HENR  Y  FIELDING.  xxi 

play  and  another  with  loans  from  friends,  and  small 
sops  gained  by  midnight  toil  from  the  pamphlet  pub- 
lishers. Such,  however,  was  Fielding's  invariably  happy 
nature  and  the  enormous  mental  resources  that  he  had 
to  draw  upon  that,  inflamed  with  deep  potations  or  cool 
with  periods  of  temperance,  he  was  ever  equally  ready 
when  opportunity  offered,  to  bow  under  the  yoke  of 
necessity  and  tug  a  pittance  out  of  the  barren  furrows  of 
casual  literary  work.  His  life,  from  first  to  last,  was 
that  of  an  honest  gentleman,  who  had  been  cast  upon  an 
evil  time,  who  strove  to  fulfill  every  obligation,  and  who 
was  forced  to  incur  many  that  he  could  not  fulfill,  because 
he  was  too  far  in  advance  of  his  age  to  command  the 
honor  and  profit  his  genius  deserved. 

"We  have  seen  at  a  later  day  Scott  accumulate  a  vast 
fortune  by  his  pen.  We  have  seen  such  successors  of 
Fielding  as  Thackeray  and  Dickens  growing  rich  by  the 
same  craft.  We  have  seen  such  poets  as  Tennyson  and 
Longfellow,  such  romancists  as  Hugo  and  his  minor 
Gallic  successors,  gaining  by  single  volumes  more  than 
the  founder  of  the  school  of  literature  upon  which  their  art 
was  fed  gained  in  half  a  laborious  lifetime.  The  fate  of 
Fielding  was  the  fate  of  all  pioneers.  He  blazed  the  way 
and  cleared  the  track  by  which  others  were  to  travel  to 
their  goals. 

No  particular  interest  attaches  to  Fielding's  last  dram- 
atic essay,  except  that  of  curiosity.  He  got  no  gain  from 
it,  and  its  paucity  of  profit  no  doubt  spurred  him  to  the 
production  of  "Jonathan  Wild,  the  Great." 

"  Jonathan  Wild  "  is  one  of  the  most  trenchant  satires 
ever  written.  It  was,  for  its  time,  the  most  trenchant 
known  to  English  literature,  and  it  may  be  questioned  if 
it  has  had  a  successor.  The  closest  approach  to  it  is 
Thackeray's  "Barry  Lyndon,"  which  was  obviously 
suggested  by  and  modeled  after  it.  With  the  gravity  of 
a  historian  treating  of  grave  and  reverend  men,  the 
author  traced  the  career  of  an  unmitigated   scoundrel. 


xxii  HENRY  FIELDING. 

Every  vice  and  iniquity  of  his  hero,  and  every  vice  and 
iniquity  of  the  society  of  the  time,  were  glorified  in  a 
negative  sense.  To  those  who  have  any  knowledge  of 
the  manners  and  methods  of  Fielding's  time,  "  Jonathan 
Wild  "  will  have  a  positive  interest  and  value.  To  those 
who  have  not,  it  will,  except  in  certain  passages,  prove 
dull  reading  enough.  But  it  is  illumined,  even  for  the 
unilluminated,  with  superb  passages  and  splendid 
sketches  of  character,  in  every  one  of  which  the  invaria- 
ble repetition  of  human  types,  from  the  time  when 
humanity  began,  will  be  recognized  and  prized. 

The  idea  of  this  satire  is  now  believed  to  have  origin- 
ated with  Fielding  before  he  took  up  and  executed  his 
satire  of  Richardson.  The  probability  is  that  he  had  it 
plotted  out  when  the  conception  of  "  Joseph  Andrews" 
came  to  him,  and  he  laid  it  aside  to  complete  the  other, 
as  being  more  applicable  to  the  time.  At  any  rate,  "  The 
History  of  the  Life  of  the  Late  Mr.  Jonathan  "Wild,  the 
Great,"  appeared  as  the  third  volume  to  the  "  Miscel- 
lanies," issued  in  1743.  Scott  speaks  in  slighting  terms  of 
"  Jonathan  Wild,"  but  even  in  this  deprecatory  spirit  he 
allows  that  "  there  are  few  passages  in  Fielding's  more 
celebrated  works  more  marked  by  his  peculiar  genius  than 
the  scene  betwixt  his  hero  and  the  ordinary  when  in  New- 
gate." Mr.  Dobson  is  a  more  appreciative  critic.  He 
writes : 

"  Under  the  name  of  a  notorious  thief -taker,  hanged  at 
Tyburn  in  1725,  Fielding  has  traced  the  Progress  of  a 
Rogue  to  the  Gallows,  showing  by  innumerable  subtle 
touches  that  the  (so-called)  greatness  of  a  villain  does  not 
very  materially  differ  from  any  other  kind  of  greatness, 
which  is  equally  independent  of  goodness.  This  continually 
suggested  affinity  between  the  ignoble  and  the  pseudo- 
noble  is  the  text  of  the  book.  Against  genuine  worth 
(its  author  is  careful  to  explain)  his  satire  is  in  no  wise  di- 
rected. He  is  far  from  considering  Newgate  as  no  other 
than  Human  Nature  with  its  Mask  off ;  but  he  thinks  we 


HENRY  FIELDING.  xxiii 

may  be  excused  for  suspecting  that  the  splendid  Palaces 
of  the  Great  are  often  no  other  than  Newgate  with  the 
Mask  on.  Thus  Jonathan  Wild  the  Great  is  a  pro- 
longed satire  upon  the  spurious  eminence  in  which  be- 
nevolence, honesty,  charity,  and  the  like  have  no  part ; 
or,  as  Fielding  prefers  to  term  it,  that  false  or  Bombast 
greatness  which  is  so  often  mistaken  for  the  true  Sublime 
in  Human  Nature — Greatness  and  Goodness  combined." 

So  thoroughly  has  he  explained  his  intention  in  the  pre- 
faces to  the  "  Miscellanies,"  and  to  the  book  itself,  that  it 
is  difficult  to  comprehend  how  Scott  could  fail  to  see  his 
drift.  Possibly,  like  some  others,  he  found  the  subject  re- 
pugnant and  painful  to  his  kindly  nature.  Possibly,  too, 
he  did  not,  for  this  reason,  study  the  book  very  carefully. 
At  any  rate,  "Jonathan  Wild,"  certainly  is  not  of  the 
first  rank  of  the  author's  works.  Dobson  rates  it  after 
the  three  great  novels,  which  is  a  fair  judgment.  What- 
ever may  be  the  opinion  of  it  as  a  story,  it  can  rank  in 
workmanship  with  any  of  his  productions. 

The  measure  of  success  of  "Jonathan  Wild  "  was  only 
moderate.  It  was,  perhaps,  one  more  of  curiosity,  fol- 
lowing, as  it  did,  after  "  Joseph  Andrews,"  than  of  gen- 
uine appreciation.  Still  the  author  got  some  money  by 
it,  which  was  very  much  to  his  purpose  at  the  time. 
Thenceforward  his  activity  as  a  producer  of  fiction  sub- 
sided for  half  a  dozen  years. 

During  this  time  he  produced  no  work  of  signal  im- 
portance. He  battled  with  the  gout  and  with  necessity. 
He  edited  the  Jacobite  Journal  and  other  transient  pub- 
lications of  a  political  character,  and  with  proper  and 
characteristic  improvidence  married  a  second  time.  On 
November  27th,  1747,  he  took  to  wife  one  Mary  Daniel, 
with  whom  he  went  to  housekeeping  in  two  rooms  in  Back 
Lane,  Twickenham.  Some  year  or  so  later  came  an- 
other eventful  turn  in  his  career. 

Smollet  had  commenced  to  exercise  his  interest  for  him, 
to  secure  him  an  appointment.    The  Jacobite   Journal 


xxiv  HENRY  FIELDING. 

ceased  to  appear  in  November,  1748.  In  the  early  part 
of  the  December  following,  by  Lord  Lyttleton's  interest, 
Fielding-  was  appointed  a  Justice  of  the  Peace  for  West- 
minster. From  a  letter  in  the  "  Bedford  Correspond- 
ence," dated  13th  of  December,  1748,  respecting-  the  lease 
of  a  house  or  houses  which  would  qualify  him  to  act  for 
Middlesex,  it  would  seem  that  the  county  was  afterwards 
added  to  his  commission. 

This  office  reads  more  importantly  on  paper  than  it  was 
in  fact.  The  justice's  emoluments  depended  on  fees,  which 
he  was  expected  to  extort  from  the  public.  But  it  was 
accompanied  in  Fielding's  case  by  a  small  pension,  which 
helped  him  out,  for  he  was  too  honest  to  thrive  by  the 
frauds  placed  at  his  command.  Writing  of  his  position, 
Fielding  himself  said: 

"  I  will  confess  that  my  private  affairs  at  the  beginning 
of  the  winter  had  but  a  gloomy  aspect ;  for  1  had  not 
plundered  the  public  or  the  poor  of  those  sums  which 
men  who  are  always  ready  to  plunder  both  as  much  as 
they  can  have  been  pleased  to  suspect  me  of  taking ;  on 
the  contrary,  by  composing,  instead  of  inflaming  the 
quarrels  of  porters  and  beggars  (which  I  blush  when  I 
say  hath  not  been  universally  practiced,)  and  by  refusing 
to  take  a  shilling  from  a  man  who  most  undoubtedly 
would  not  have  had  another  left,  I  had  reduced  an  income 
of  about  500Z.  a  year  of  the  dirtiest  money  upon  earth,  to 
little  more  than  300Z.,  a  considerable  portion  of  which  re- 
mained with  my  clerk." 

VII. 

On  the  28th  of  February,  1749,  Andrew  Millar  pub- 
lished "  The  History  of  Tom  Jones,  a  Foundling,  by- 
Henry  Fielding,  Esq."  It  appeared  in  six  volumes  12 
mo.,  at  sixteen  shillings  a  set,  and  took  the  town  by 
storm.  "  Tom  Jones  "  was  dedicated  to  Lord,  or  as  he 
was  then  still,  Mr.  Lyttleton.     The  price  paid  for  it  by 


HENRY  FIELDING.  xxv 

Millar  was  £600,  and  Horace  Walpole,  writing  to  George 
Montagu  in  May,  1749,  says:  "Millar  the  bookseller 
lias  done  very  generously  by  him  (Fielding):  finding 
'  Tom  Jones,'  for  which  he  had  given  him  £600,  sell  so 
greatly,  he  has  since  given  him  another  hundred." 

By  all  appearances  "Tom  Jones"  had  been  begun  by 
the  author  about  the  time  of  his  second  marriage,  and 
probably  under  pressure  of  the  necessity  that  act 
involved.  Its  publication  carried  the  author's  fame  to 
its  height,  but  besides  the  money  paid  him  for  the  copy- 
right it  was  attended  by  no  appreciable  consequences  to 
his  fortunes.  He  still  remained  a  poor  justice,  of  whose 
condition  an  idea  may  be  had  from  a  letter  written  by 
Walpole: 

"  Rigby  gave  me  as  strong  a  picture  of  nature.  He 
and  Peter  Bathurst,  t'other  night,  carried  a  servant  of 
the  latter 's,  who  had  attempted  to  shoot  him,  before 
Fielding,  who,  to  all  his  other  vocations,  has,  by  the 
grace  of  Mr.  Lyttleton,  added  that  of  Middlesex  justice. 
He  sent  them  word  he  was  at  supper — they  must  come 
next  morning.  They  did  not  understand  that  freedom, 
and  ran   up,  where  they  found  him  banqueting  with  a 

blind  man,  a  wh ,  and  three  Irishmen,  on  some  cold 

mutton  and  a  bone  of  a  ham,  both  in  one  dish,  and  the 
dirtiest  cloth.  He  never  stirred  or  asked  them  to  sit. 
Rigby,  who  had  seen  him  come  so  often  to  beg  a  guinea 
of  Sir  C.  Williams,  and  Bathurst,  at  whose  father's  he 
had  lived  for  victuals,  understood  that  dignity  as  little, 
and  pulled  themselves  chairs,  on  which  he  civilized." 

It  should  be  added,  however,  that  Walpole  was  not 
the  most  reliable  authority  in  the  world,  and  that  he 
never  hesitated  to  exaggerate  in  order  to  make  an  effect- 
ive picture.  Still,  it  is  beyond  question  that  Fielding's 
life  at  this  period  was  both  reckless  and  given  to  excess, 
and  that  from  the  very  bent  of  his  genius  he  preferred 
what  Walpole  calls  "low  company"  to  that  of  the 
drawing  room. 


xxvi  HENRY  FIELDING. 

The  sale  of  ''Tom  Jones  "  went  on  famously  in  spite 
of  the  author's  habits.  Of  the  book  itself,  Scott  writes 
in  these  glowingly  critical  terms  : 

"The  general  merits  of  this  popular  and  delightful 
work  have  been  so  often  dwelt  upon,  and  its  imperfec- 
tions so  frequently  censured,  that  we  can  do  little  more 
than  hastily  run  over  ground  which  has  been  so  repeat- 
edly occupied.  The  felicitous  contrivance  and  happy 
extrication  of  the  story,  where  every  incident  tells  upon 
and  advances  the  catastrophe,  while,  at  the  same  time, 
it  illustrates  the  characters  of  those  interested  in  its  ap- 
proach, cannot  too  often  be  mentioned  with  the  highest 
approbation.  The  attention  of  the  reader  is  never  di- 
verted or  puzzled  by  unnecessary  digressions,  or  recalled 
to  the  main  story  by  abrupt  and  startling  recurrences ; 
he  glides  down  the  narrative  like  a  boat  on  the  surface  of 
some  broad  navigable  stream,  which  only  winds  enough 
to  gratify  the  voyager  with  the  varied  beauty  of  its 
banks.  One  exception  to  this  praise,  otherwise  so  well 
merited,  occurs  in  the  story  of  the  Old  Man  of  the  Hill ; 
an  episode,  which,  in  compliance  with  a  custom  intro- 
duced by  Cervantes,  and  followed  by  Le  Sage,  Fielding 
has  thrust  into  the  midst  of  his  narrative,  as  he  had 
formerly  introduced  the  History  of  Leonora,  equally  un- 
necessarily and  inartificially ,into  that  of  'Joseph  Andrews.' 
It  has  also  been  wondered  why  Fielding  should  have 
chosen  to  leave  the  stain  of  illegitimacy  on  the  birth  of  his 
hero ;  and  it  has  been  surmised  that  he  did  so  in  allusion 
to  his  own  first  wife,  who  was  also  a  natural  child. 

"  A  better  reason  may  be  discovered  in  the  story  itself ; 
for,  had  Miss  Bridget  been  privately  married  to  the  father 
of  Tom  Jones,  there  could  have  been  no  adequate  motive 
assigned  for  keeping  his  birth  secret  from  a  man  so  rea- 
sonable and  compassionate  as  Airworthy, 


HENRY  FIELDING.  xxvh 

VIII. 

No  portion  of  Fielding's  career  presents  stranger  con- 
trasts than  that  upon  which  he  had  now  entered.  As  a 
magistrate  he  brought  little  personal  dignity  to  the  bench, 
where  he  sat  in  dirty  ruffles  and  tarnished  and  thread- 
bare garb,  with  red  eyes  and  jaundiced  face.  But  he  did  in- 
vest his  office  with  a  great  deal  of  common  sense,  and 
speedily  won  recognition  for  the  work  he  did  in  it.  And 
what  with  the  duties  of  his  post,  the  useful  and  satirical 
pamphleteering  that  grew  out  of  it,  and  the  social  exac- 
tions to  which  he  subjected  himself,  he  had  his  hands  so 
full  that  he  could  have  been  excused  for  complete  inactiv- 
ity in  the  field  of  fiction. 

But  Fielding  was  no  sluggard,  and  moreover  his  needs 
pressed  him.  He  was  by  no  means  a  rich  man,  and ,  we 
are  told  by  Murphy,  that,  as  a  Westminster  justice,  he 
"kept  his  table  open  to  those  who  had  been  his  friends 
when  young  and  had  impaired  their  fortunes.  "  Can- 
not one  imagine  this  ragged  regiment  feeding  upon  him 
and  the  incessant  pressure  for  money  its  voracity  pro- 
duced? 

One  of  the  literary  curiosities  of  this  period  of  Fielding's 
career  was  his  pamphlet  on  "  A  True  State  of  the  Case  of 
Bosavern  Penlez.  "  This  rare  argument  of  a  current 
legal  event  sheds  an  interesting  side  light  on  the  fierce 
brutality  of  the  time  and  affords  a  hint  at  the  sort  of 
work  the  author's  judgeship  involved  for  him.  Bosavern 
Penlez  was  a  fellow  who  had  been  hanged  for  robbery? 
and  the  pamphlet  was  written  to  justify  his  execution, 
which  caused  a  great  outcry.  Three  sailors  of  the  Graf- 
ton man-of-war,  roving  London  on  a  hot  summer  night, 
had  been  robbed  in  a  house  of  ill-fame  in  the  Strand. 
Failing  to  obtain  redress,  they  attacked  the  house  with 
their  comrades,  and  wrecked  it,  causing  a  "  dangerous 
riot, ':  to  which  Fielding  makes  incidental  reference 
in    one    of  his  letters    to  the    Duke    of   Bedford,  and 


xxviii  HENRY  FIELDING. 

which  was  witnessed  by  John  Byrom,  the  poet  and  sten- 
ographer, in  whose  "Remains"  it  is  described.  Bosa- 
vern  Penlez  was  one  of  the  crowd  that  looked  on  at 
this  affair,  and  who  took  advantage  of  the  attack  to  rob 
the  house.  He  was  apprehended  with  stolen  property 
in  his  possession  and  made  an  example  of. 

One  of  the  most  notable  of  Fielding's  legal  papers  dates 
from  this  period.  It  is  his  charge  to  the  Westminster 
Grand  Jury,  which  he  delivered  in  June,  1749,  and  in 
which  among  other  evils  he  attacked  his  old  love,  the 
stage,  for  its  license  of  personal  attack,  with  great  se- 
verity. The  charge  for  years  has  been  recognized  as  a 
model  delivery  of  its  kind,  dignified,  forcible,  eloquent  and 
picturesque.  Its  compilation  is  said  by  one  of  Fielding's 
contemporaries  to  have  cost  him  "two  gallons  of  Bur- 
gundy and  a  fit  of  the  gout." 

But  the  gout  had  become  chronic  with  Fielding  by  this 
time.  Toward  the  close  of  1749  he  fell  seriously  ill  with 
fever  aggravated  by  it.  It  was  indeed  at  one  time  re- 
ported that  mortification  had  supervened;  but  under  the 
care  of  Dr.  Thomson,  that  dubious  practitioner  whose 
treatment  of  Winnington  in  1746  had  given  rise  to  so 
much  paper  war,  he  recovered,  and  during  1750  was 
actively  employed  in  his  magisterial  duties.  At  this 
period  lawlessness  and  violence  appear  to  have  prevailed 
to  an  unusual  extent  in  the  metropolis,  and  the  office 
of  a  Bow  Street  justice  was  no  sinecure.  Reform  of 
some  kind  was  felt  on  all  sides  to  be  urgently  required, 
and  Fielding  threw  his  two  years'  experience  and  his 
deductions  therefrom  into  the  form  of  a  pamphlet  en- 
titled "  An  Enquiry  into  the  Causes  of  the  late  Increase 
of  Robbers,  etc.,  with  some  Proposals  for  Remedying 
this  growing  Evil."  It  was  dedicated  to  the  then  Lord 
High  Chancellor,  Philip  Yorke,  Lord  Hardwicke,  by 
whom,  as  well  as  by  more  recent  legal  authorities,  it 
was  highly  appreciated,  and  it  resulted  in  a  government 
appropriation  for   purposes  of  reform  that  gave  Field- 


HENRY  FIELDING.  xxix 

ing  an  opportunity  to  cany  out  some  of  his  ideas  with 
good  results. 

One  passage  of  the  "Enquiry  "  is  an  attack  on  the  vice 
of  gin  drinking,  which  is  famous  as  having  suggested  to 
the  author's  friend  Hogarth  the  idea  for  his  plate  "  Gin 
Lane,"  which  was  published  a  month  later,  in  February, 
1751.  We  next  find  Fielding  figuring  as  an  endorser  of 
the  celebrated  Glastonbury  waters,  whose  discovery 
made  a  passing  sensation,  and  which  are  one  of  the  oddi- 
ties of  the  day.  According  to  the  account  given  in  the 
Gentleman's  Magazine  for  July  in  that  year,  a  certain 
Matthew  Chancellor  had  been  cured  of  "an  asthma  and 
phthisic  "  of  thirty  years'  standing  by  drinking  from  a 
spring  near  Chain  Gate,  Glastonbury,  to  which  he  had, 
so  he  alleged,been  directed  in  a  dream.  The  spring  forth- 
with became  famous, and  an  entry  in  the  Historical  Chron- 
icle for  Sunday,  May  5th,  records  that  above  10,000 
persons  had  visited  it,  deserting  Bristol,  Bath,  and  other 
popular  resorts.  Numerous  pamphlets  were  published  for 
and  against  the  new  waters,  and  a  letter  in  their  favor, 
which  appeared  in  the  London  Daily  Advertiser  for  the 
31st  of   August,   signed   "Z.   Z.,"  is  "supposed  to  be 

wrote  "  by  "  J e  F g."    Fielding  was,  as  may 

be  remembered,  a  Somersetshire  man,  Sharpham  Park, 
his  birthplace,  being  about  three  miles  from  Glastonbury, 
and  he  testifies  to  the  "wonderful  Effects  of  this  salu- 
brious Spring  "  in  words  which  show  that  he  had  himself 
experienced  them.  But  they  brought  him  no  permanent 
relief  in  spite  of  their  salubrity.  The  Glastonbury  Springs 
are  now  neglected,  but  they  continued  popular  for  many 
years,  and  at  one  time  their  pump  room  almost  rivaled 
that  at  Bath. 

All  this  time,  pinched  by  poverty  and  gout,  and  racked 
by  fever  and  trouble,  Fielding  was  finding  a  spare 
hour  now  and  then  to  devote  to  the  last  of  the  fictions 
which  have  won  him  immortality.  Like  "Tom  Jones," 
it  came  upon  the  world  with  but  little  preliminary  ad- 


xxx  HENRY  FIELDING. 

vertisement.  In  Sylvanus  Urban's  list  of  publica- 
tions for  December,  1751,  No.  17  is  noticed  as  "Amelia, 
in  4  books,  12  mo.,  by  Henry  Fielding-,  Esq." 

"Fielding-,"  wrote  Walpole,  "hath  written  a  new  book, 
and  they  tell  me  put  himself  in  it,  though  whether  as 
rogue  or  hero  I  have  not  yet  read.  But  what  we  won- 
der at  is  where  and  how  he  finds  time  to  write  at  all." 

There  was,  indeed,  food  for  wonder  in  this;  but 
Fielding's  productivity  was  entirely  superior  to  circum- 
stances. His  enormous  energy  defied  the  ravages  of 
disease  until  physical  decay  became  too  complete'  for 
mental  sustension.  And  indeed,  the  signs  of  growing 
weakness  show  themselves  in  "Amelia,"  and  hint  at 
the  miserable  circumstances  under  which  most  of  that 
book  must  have  been  produced.  "What  nights  of  toil 
and  pain,  what  racking  headaches  and  distracting  har- 
assments  by  debts  and  duns  must  be  behind  its  pages, 
only  the  author  himself  knew.  The  wonder  is  not  that 
it  has  the  faults  it  has,  but  that  it  has  no  more. 

IX. 

"Amelia"  was  published  by  Fielding's  regular  pub- 
lisher, Andrew  Millar.  According  to  the  General  Ad- 
vertiser, its  day  of  issue  was  December  19,  1751,  but  it 
is  dated  1752.  The  work  was  dedicated  to  Ralph  Allen. 
Millar  paved  the  way  for  it  by  some  of  the  familiar 
tricks  of  advertising  of  which  he  was  fond.  In  one  he 
said: 

"  To  satisfy  the  earnest  demand  of  the  publick,  this  work 
has  been  printed  at  four  presses ;  but  the  proprietor, 
notwithstanding,  finds  it  impossible  to  get  them  (sic) 
bound  in  time,  without  spoiling  the  beauty  of  the  impres- 
sion, and  therefore  will  sell  them  sew'd  at  half-a-guinea." 

This  was  open  enough,  but,  according  to  Scott,  Millar 
adopted  a  second  expedient  to  assist  "Amelia"  with  the 
booksellers: 


HENRY  FIELDING.  xxxi 

"  He  had  paid  a  thousand  pounds  for  the  copyright; 
and  when  he  began  to  suspect  that  the  work  would  be 
judged  inferior  to  its  predecessor,  he  employed  the  fol- 
lowing stratagem  to  push  it  upon  the  trade.  At  a  sale 
made  to  the  booksellers,  previous  to  the  publication,  Mil- 
lar offered  his  friends  his  other  publications  on  the  usual 
terms  of  discount;  but  when  he  came  to  "  Amelia,"  he 
laid  it  aside  as  a  work  expected  to  be  in  such  demand 
that  he  could  not  afford  to  deliver  it  to  the  trade  in  the 
usual  manner.  The  ruse  succeeded — the  impression  was 
anxiously  bought  up,  and  the  bookseller  relieved  from 
every  apprehension  of  a  slow  sale." 

Scott  makes  but  small  account  of  "Amelia,"  of  which 
he  writes  : 

"  'Amelia  '  was  the  author's  last  work  of  importance. 
It  may  be  termed  a  continuation  of  '  Tom  Jones,'  but 
we  have  not  the  same  sympathy  for  the  ungrateful  and 
dissolute  conduct  of  Booth,  which  we  yield  to  the  youthful 
follies  of  Jones.  The  character  of  Amelia  is  said  to  have 
been  drawn  for  Fielding's  second  wife.  If  he  put  her 
patience,  as  has  been  alleged,  to  tests  of  the  same  kind, 
he  has,  in  some  degree,  repaid  her  by  the  picture  he  has 
drawn  of  her  feminine  delicacy  and  pure  tenderness. 
Fielding's  novels  show  few  instances  of  pathos ;  it  was, 
perhaps,  inconsistent  with  the  life  which  he  was  compelled 
to  lead ;  for  those  who  see  most  of  human  misery,  become 
necessarily,  in  some  degree,  hardened  to  its  effects.  But 
few  scenes  of  fictitious  distress  are  more  affecting  than 
that  in  which  Amelia  is  described  as  having  made  her 
little  preparations  for  the  evening,  and  sitting  in  anxious 
expectation  of  the  return  of  her  unworthy  husband, 
whose  folly  is,  in  the  meantime,  preparing  for  her  new 
scenes  of  misery.  But  our  sympathy  for  the  wife  is 
disturbed  by  our  dislike  of  her  unthankful  husband,  and 
the  tale  is,  on  the  whole,  unpleasing,  even  though  re- 
lieved by  the  humors  of  the  doughty  Colonel  Bath,  and 
the  learned  Dr.  Harrison,  characters  drawn  with  such 


xxxii  HENRY  FIELDING. 

force  and  'precision  as  Fielding  alone  knew  how  to   em- 
ploy." 

Mr.  Dobson,  a  much  more  lenient,  if  later,  critic,  finds, 
however,  ample  apology  for  ''Amelia's"  weaknesses. 
"  There  are  "  says  he,"  several  reasons  why — superficially 
speaking — '  Amelia  '  should  he  'judged  inferior  to  its  pre- 
decessor.' That  it  succeeded '  Tom  Jones  '  after  an  interval 
of  a  little  more  than  two  years  and  eight  months  would  he 
an  important  element  in  the  comparison,  if  it  were  known 
at  all  definitely  what  period  was  occupied  in  writing 
'  Tom  Jones.'  All  that  can  be  affirmed  is  that  Fielding 
must  have  been  far  more  at  leisure  when  he  composed 
the  earlier  work  than  he  could  possibly  have  been 
when  filling  the  office  of  a  Bow  Street  magistrate. 
But,  in  reality,  there  is  a  much  better  explanation  of  the 
superiority  of  '  Tom  Jones  '  to  '  Amelia  '  than  the  mereljr 
empirical  one  of  the  time  it  took.  'Tom  Jones,' it  has 
been  admirably  said  by  a  French  critic,  '  est  la  condensa- 
tion et  le  resume  de  toute  une  existence.  C'est  le  re- 
sultat  et  la  conclusion  de  plusieurs  annees  de  passions 
et  de  pensees,  la  formule  derniere  et  complete  de  la 
philosophie  personnelle  que  Von  s'est  faite  sur  tout  ce 
que  Von  a  vu  et  senti.'  Behind  '  Tom  Jones  '  there  was 
the  author's  ebullient  youth  and  manhood ;  behind 
'Amelia '  but  a  section  of  his  graver  middle  age.  That, 
as  some  have  contended,  '  Amelia '  shows  an  intellectual 
falling  off  cannot  for  a  moment  be  admitted,  least  of  all 
upon  the  ground — as  even  so  staunch  an  admirer  as  Mr. 
Keightley  has  allowed  himself  to  believe — that  certain  of 
its  incidents  are  obviously  repeated  from  '  The  Modern 
Husband '  and  others  of  the  author's  plays.  At  this 
rate  '  Tom  Jones  '  might  be  judged  inferior  to  '  Joseph 
Andrews,'  because  the  Political  Apothecary  in  the  'Man 
of  the  Hill's '  story  has  his  prototype  in  the  '  Coffee- 
House  Politician,'  whose  original  is  Addison's  Uphol- 
sterer. The  plain  fact  is,  that  Fielding  recognized  the 
failure  of  his  plays  as  literature ;  he  regarded  them  as 


HENRY  FIELDING.  xxxiii 

dead,  and  freely  transplanted  what  was  good  of  his  for- 
gotten work  into  the  work  which  he  hoped  would  live. 
In  this,  it  may  be,  there  was  something  of  indolence  or 
haste,  but  assuredly  there  was  no  proof  of  declining 
powers." 

Johnson  was  thoroughly  captivated  with  the  book. 
Notwithstanding  that  on  another  occasion  he  paradoxi- 
cally asserted  that  the  author  was  a  "  a  blockhead" — "  a 
barren  rascal" — he  read  it  through  without  stopping,  and 
pronounced  Mrs.  Booth  to  be  "  the  most  pleasing  heroine 
of  all  the  romances."  Richardson,  on  the  other  hand, 
found  "  the  characters  and  situations  so  wretchedly  low 
and  dirty"  that  he  could  not  get  farther  than  the  first 
volume.  With  the  professional  reviewers,  a  certain 
"  Criticulus"  in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine  excepted,  it 
seems  to  have  fared  but  ill ;  and  although  these  adverse 
verdicts,  if  they  exist,  are  now  more  or  less  inaccessible, 
Fielding  has  apparently  summarized  most  of  them  in  a 
mock  trial  of  "  Amelia"  before  the  "  Court  of  Censorial 
Enquiry,"  the  proceedings  of  which  are  recorded  in  Nos. 
7  and  8  of  the  Covent  Garden  Journal.  The  book  is  in- 
dicted upon  the  Statute  of  Dullness,  and  the  heroine  is 
charged  with  being  a  "low  Character,"  a  "  Milksop"  and 
a  "  Fool;"  with  lack  of  spirit  and  fainting  too  frequently, 
with  dressing  her  children,  cooking,  and  other  "  servile 
Offices;"  with  being  too  forgiving  to  her  husband;  and 
lastly,  as  may  be  expected,  with  the  inconsistency  already 
amply  referred  to,  of  being  "a  Beauty  without  a  nose." 
The  other  characters  are  raked  over  in  a  similar  manner 
and  spirit  of  satire. 

In  spite  of  critics,  however,  the  books  started  well. 
The  ingenious  expedients  of  Andrew  Millar  appear  to 
have  so  far  succeeded  that  a  new  edition  of  "  Amelia  " 
was  called  for  on  the  day  of  publication,  and  though  it 
fell  far  short  of  the  success  of  "  Tom  Jones  "  in  a  literary 
sense,  its  publication  was  profitable  to  the  publisher  at 
least.     It  is  not  recorded  that  Fielding  got  more  by  it 


xxxiv  HENRY  FIELDING. 

than  his  original  £1,000,  which,  indeed,  came  at  an  au- 
spicious moment,  for  the  publication  of  "  Amelia  "  found 
his  fortunes  at  their  lowest  ebb  for  years,  and  his  body 
in  none  of  its  old  condition  to  protract  the  heroic  struggle 
that  it  had  waged  so  manfully  with  fate.  The  same  old 
Fielding,  to  the  last,  however.  It  is  told  of  him,  even  in 
these  days  of  decadence,  how  he  went  to  Johnson  to  bor- 
row money  to  pay  tax  arrearages  on  his  house,  and  com- 
ing homeward,  met  an  old  college  chum  and  took  him  in 
and  dined  him  and  emptied  his  pockets  to  relieve  his  dis- 
tress though  the  tax  gatherer  might  throw  him  out  of 
doors.  "But  I  have  called  twice  for  the  money,"  said 
the  collector.  "  Well  friendship  called  for  it  and  had  it," 
answered  Fielding,  "Call  again."  And  Dr.  Hurd,  after- 
wards Bishop  of  Worcester,  wrote  in  a  letter  from  the 
Inner  Temple  at  this  time  : 

"  I  dined  with  Ralph  Allen  yesterday,  where  I  met  Mr. 
Fielding — a  poor,  emaciated,  worn-out  rake,  whose  gout 
and  infirmities  have  got  the  better  even  of  his  buffoon- 
ery." 

That  Fielding  had  not  long  before  been  dangerously  ill, 
and  that  he  was  a  martyr  to  gout,  is  fact ;  the  rest  is 
probably  no  more  than  the  echo  of  a  foregone  conclusion, 
basen  upon  report,  or  dislike  to  his  works.  Hurd  praised 
Richardson  and  proscribed  Sterne.  He  must  have  been 
wholly  out  of  sympathy  with  the  author  of  "  Tom  Jones." 
At  any  rate,  it  is  some  satisfaction  to  reflect  that  this 
censorious  formalist  was  called  by  Johnson  a  "  word- 
picker,"  and  by  franker  contemporaries  "  an  old  maid  in 
breeches." 

Richardson  wrote  exultantly  of  "Amelia"  to  one  of 
his  admirers,  "  Captain  Booth,  madame,  has  done  his 
business,"  predicted  dead  failure  for  the  book,  and  fore- 
told that  it  would  be  the  author's  last  novel.  It  was  so, 
but  at  the  dictation  of  a  power  very  different  from  the 
Pharisaical  author  of  "  Pamela"  and  the  carping  critics 
who  supported  him. 


HENRY  FIELDING.  xxxv 

X. 

The  completion  of  "  Amelia  "  found  its  author  in  a 
very  bad  way  physically,  indeed.  His  gout  had  become 
chronic  and  aggravated.  There  were  forebodings  of 
dropsy.  Time  and  again  his  physicians  commanded  him 
to  absolute  inactivity  and  freedom  from  care.  The  satire 
of  this  prescription  is  exquisite  in  its  perfection.  In  order 
to  cure  himself,  Fielding  would  have  had  to  starve  him. 
self  to  death. 

He  did  nothing  of  the  kind  though.  Like  a  sentinel  at 
his  post,  he  remained  in  harness  in  defiance  of  anguish 
and  flashes  and  glooms  of  hopefulness  and  despair  that 
would  have  distracted  and  overturned  a  feebler  mind. 
"'Tis  not  the  labor  that  tires  me,"  he  writes  to  a  friend 
at  this  period,  "  nor  the  trouble  of  thinking.  Ideas  grow 
with  growth  and  expand  with  their  execution.  If  I  were 
a  score  of  years  younger,  what  could  I  not  accomplish  ?  " 
Alas  !  it  was  the  old  story  of  powers  that  mature  while 
men  decay.  A  black  and  bitter  life's  lesson  was  bearing 
splendid  fruits  at  a  day  too  late  for  the  gardener  to  en- 
joy them.  Fielding  still  seems  to  have  cherished  hopes 
for  another  work  of  fiction  after  "  Amelia."  He  hints  at 
it  obscurely  in  the  few  letters  he  found  time  to  write,  and 
several  times  alluded  to  it  in  casual  conversation.  But 
he  appears  never  to  have  got  beyond  the  germ  of  the 
idea,  and  never  to  have  even  skeletonized  the  plan  for  its 
performance.  In  the  profound  depths  of  his  deep  and 
daring  brain,  this  last  infant  of  his  proud  originality  died 
stillborn. 

But  he  wrote  all  the  same.  He  started  the  Covent- 
Garden  Journal,  as  a  sort  of  critical  and  censorious 
review  of  the  Great  Britain  in  which  he  was  so  great  a 
figure.  The  Covent- Garden  Journal  was  a  bi-weekly 
paper,  in  which  Fielding,  under  the  style  and  title  of  "  Sir 
Alexander  Drawcansir,"  assumed  the  office  of  censor  of 
Great  Britain.    The  first  number  of  this  new  venture  was 


xxxvi  HENRY  FIELDING. 

issued  on  January  the  4th,  1752,  and  the  price  was  three- 
pence. In  plan  and  general  appearance  it  resembled 
the  Jacobite 's  Journal,  consisting  mainly  of  an  introduc- 
tory essay,  paragraphs  of  current  news,  often  accom- 
panied by  pointed  editorial  comment,  miscellaneous 
articles  and  advertisements.  One  of  the  features  of  the 
earlier  numbers  was  a  burlesque,  but  not  very  successful, 
"  Journal  of  the  Present  Paper  War,"  which  speedily  in- 
volved the  author  in  actual  hostilities  with  the  notorious 
quack  and  adventurer,  Dr.  John  Hill,  who  for  some  time 
had  been  publishing"  certain  impudent  lucubrations  in  the 
London  Daily  Advertiser  under  the  heading  of  The 
Inspector;  and  also  with  Smollett,  whom  he  (Fielding) 
had  ridiculed  in  his  second  number,  perhaps,  on  account 
of  a  certain  little  paragraph  in  the  first  edition  of  "  Pere- 
grine Pickle."  Smollett,  always  irritable  and  combative, 
retorted  by  a  needlessly  coarse  and  venomous  pamphlet, 
in  which,  under  the  name  of  "  Habbakkuk  Hilding,  Jus- 
tice, Dealer  and  Chapman,"  Fielding  was  attacked  with 
indescribable  brutality.  Another,  and  seemingly  un- 
provoked, adversary  whom  the  "Journal  of  the  War" 
brought  upon  him  was  Bonnel  Thornton,  afterwards  joint- 
author  with  George  Colman  of  "  The  Connoisseur,"  who, 
in  a  production  styled  Have  at  you  All;  or,  the  Drury 
Lane  Journal,  lampooned  Sir  Alexander  with  remarkable 
rancour  and  assiduity.  Mr.  Lawrence  has  treated  these 
"quarrels  of  authors  "  at  some  length;  and  they  also 
have  some  record  in  the  curious  collections  of  the  elder 
Disraeli.  As  a  general  rule,  Fielding  was  far  less  per- 
sonal and  much  more  scrupulous  in  his  choice  of  weapons 
than  those  who  assailed  him;  but  the  conflict  was  an  un- 
dignified one,  and,  as  Scott  has  justly  said,  "  neither  party 
would  obtain  honor  by  an  inquiry  into  the  cause  or  con- 
duct of  its  hostilities." 

In  the  enumeration  of  Fielding's  works,  says  Mr.  Dobson 
very  justly,  it  is  somewhat  difficult  (if  due  proportion  be 
observed)  to  assign  any  real  importance  to  efforts  like  the 


HENRY  FIELDING.  xxxvii 

Covent  Garden  Journal.  Compared  with,  his  novels, 
they  are  insignificant  enough.  But  even  the  worst  work 
of  such  a  man  is  notable  in  its  way,  and  Fielding's  con- 
tributions to  the  Journal  are  by  no  means  to  be  despisc<l 
They  are  shrewd  lay  sermons,  often  exhibiting  much  out- 
of-the-way  erudition,  and  nearly  always  distinguished  by 
some  of  his  personal  qualities.  In  No.  33,  on  "  Profanity,'* 
there  is  a  character-sketch  which,  for  vigor  and  vitality, 
is  worthy  of  his  best  days;  and  there  is  also  a  very 
thoughtful  paper  on  *'*  Reading,"  containing  a  kindly 
reference  to  "  the  ingenious  author  of  '  Clarissa,'  "  which 
should  have  mollified  that  implacable  moralist.  In  this 
essay  it  is  curious  to  notice  that,  while  Fielding  speaks 
with  due  admiration  of  Shakspeare  and  Moliere,  Lucian, 
Cervantes,  and  Swift,  he  condemns  Rabelais  and  Aristo- 
phanes, although  in  the  invocation  in  "  Tom  Jones  "  he 
had  included  both  these  authors  among  the  models  he 
admired.  Another  paper  in  the  Covent- Garden  Journal 
is  especially  interesting,  because  it  affords  a  clue  to  a  pro- 
ject of  Fielding's  which  unfortunately  remained  a  project. 
This  was  a  translation  of  the  works  of  Lucian,  to  be  under- 
taken in  conjunction  with  his  old  colleague,  the  Rev. 
William  Young.  Proposals  were  advertised,  and  the 
enterprise  was  duly  heralded  by  a  "puff  preliminary,"  in 
which  Fielding,  while  abstaining  from  anything  directly 
concerning  his  own  abilities,  observes:  "  I  will  only  ven- 
ture to  say  that  no  man  seems  so  likely  to  translate  an 
author  well,  as  he  who  hath  formed  his  stile  upon  that 
very  author  " — a  sentence  which,  taken  in  connection  with 
the  references  to  Lucian  in  "  Tom  Thumb,"  "  The  Cham- 
pion," and  elsewhere,  must  be  accepted  as  distinctly  auto- 
biographic. The  last  number  of  the  Covent- Garden 
Journal  (No.  72)  was  issued  in  November,  1752.  By  this 
time  Sir  Alexander  seems  to  have  thoroughly  wearied  of 
his  task.  With  more  gravity  than  usual  he  takes  leave 
of  letters,  begging  the  public  that  they  will  not  henceforth 
father  on  him  the  dullness  and  scurrility  of  his  worthycon- 


xxxviii  HENRY  FIELDING. 

temporaries,  "since  I  solemnly  declare  that,  unless  in 
revising-  my  former  works,  I  have  at  present  no  intention 
to  hold  any  further  correspondence  with  the  gayer 
Muses." 

He  published,  too,  a  resume  of  a  series  of  law  cases  that 
had  come  under  his  judicial  observation,  entitled  "  Ex- 
amples of  the  Interposition  of  Providence  in  the  Detection 
and  Punishment  of  Murder,"  a  "  Proposal  for  Making 
an  Effectual  Provision  for  the  Poor,"  and  "The  Clear 
State  of  the  Case  of  Elizabeth  Canning."  This  latter 
was,  in  its  way,  a  notable  work. 

On  the  29th  of  January,  1753,  one  Elizabeth  Canning, 
a  domestic  servant,  aged  eighteen  or  thereabouts,  and 
who  had  hitherto  borne  an  excellent  character,  returned 
to  her  mother,  having  been  missing  from  the  house  of 
her  master,  a  carpenter,  in  Aldermanbury,  since  the  first 
of  the  same  month.  She  was  half  starved  and  half  clad, 
and  alleged  that  she  had  been  abducted,  and  confined 
during  her  absence  in  a  house  on  the  Hertford  road,  from 
which  she  had  just  escaped.  This  house  she  afterwards 
identified  as  that  of  one  Mother  "Wells,  a  person  of  very 
indifferent  reputation.  An  ill-favored  old  gipsy  woman 
named  Mary  Squires  was  also  declared  by  her  to  have 
been  the  main  agent  in  ill-using  and  detaining  her.  The 
gipsy,  it  is  true,  averred  that  at  the  time  of  the  occurrence 
she' was  a  hundred  and  twenty  miles  away  ;  but  Canning 
persisted  in  her  statement.  Among  other  people  before 
whom  she  came  was  Fielding,  who  examined  her,  as  well 
as  a  young  woman  called  Virtue  Hall,  who  appeared 
subsequently  as  one  of  Canning's  witnesses.  Fielding 
seems  to  have  been  strongly  impressed  by  her  appearance 
and  her  story,  and  his  pamphlet  (which  was  contradicted 
in  every  particular  by  his  adversary,  John  Hill),  gives  a 
curious  and  not  very  edifying  picture  of  the  magisterial 
procedure  of  the  time.  In  February,  Wells  and  Squires 
were  tried :  Squires  was  sentenced  to  death,  and  Wells 
to  imprisonment  and  burning  in  the  hand.     Then,  by  the 


HENRY  FIELDING.  xxxix 

exertions  of  the  Lord  Mayor,  Sir  Crisp  Gascoyne,  who 
doubted  the  j  ustice  of  the  verdict,  Squires  was  respited 
and  pardoned.  Forthwith  London  was  split  up  into 
Egyptian  and  Canningite  factions ;  a  hailstorm  of 
pamphlets  set  in ;  portraits  and  caricatures  of  the  princi- 
pal personages  were  in  all  the  print  shops ;  and,  to  use 
Churchill's  words, 

"  Betty  Canning  was  at  least, 
With  Gascoyne's  help,  a  six  months'  feast." 

In  April,  1754,  however,  Fate  so  far  prevailed  against 
her  that  she  herself,  in  turn,  was  tried  for  perjury. 
Thirty-six  witnesses  swore  that  Squires  had  been  in  Dor- 
setshire ;  twenty-six  that  she  had  been  seen  in  Middlesex. 
After  some  hesitation,  quite  of  a  piece  with  the  rest  of 
the  proceedings,  the  jury  found  Canning  guilty,  and  she 
was  transported  for  seven  years.  At  the  end  of  her  sen- 
tence she  returned  to  England  to  receive  a  legacy  of  £500, 
which  had  been  left  her  by  an  enthusiastic  old  lady  of 
Newington-green.  Her  "  case  "  is  full  of  the  most  inex- 
plicable contradictions ;  and  it  occupies  in  the  "  State 
Trials  "  some  420  closely-printed  pages  of  the  most  curi- 
ous and  picturesque  eighteenth-century  details.  But  how, 
from  the  1st  of  January,  1753,  to  the  29th  of  the  same 
month,  Elizabeth  Canning  really  did  manage  to  spend 
her  time  is  a  secret  that,  to  this  day,  remains  undivulged. 

XL 

Even  while  he  was  at  work  on  "  The  Case  of  Elizabeth 
Canning  "  it  was  evident  that  Fielding's  life  was  wearing 
itself  swiftly  out.  His  work  had  become  the  severest 
kind  of  labor  to  him.  Ideas  still  lived,  but  executive 
capacity  was  decaying  rapidly.  Asthma  had  come  to 
complicate  his  troubles,  and  the  winter  of  1753-54  was  a 
dreadfully  hard  one.  He  had  gone  to  Bath  for  treatment 
at  the  end  of  1753,  but  in  February,  1754,  he  returned  to 
town,  and  put  himself  under  the  care  of  the  notorious  Dr. 
Joshua  Ward,  of  Pall  Mall,  by  whom  he  was  treated  and 


xl  HENRY  FIELDING. 

tapped  for  dropsy.  Ward  appears  in  Hogarth's  "  Con- 
sultation of  Physicians,"  1736,  and  in  Pope — "Ward 
try'd  on  Puppies,  and  the  Poor,  his  drop."  He  was  a 
quack,  but  must  have  possessed  considerable  ability. 
Bolingbroke  wished  Pope  to  consult  him  in  1744;  and  he 
attended  George  II.  There  is  an  account  of  him  in  Nich- 
ols' "  Genuine  Works  of  Hogarth,"  vol  i.,  p.  89.  What 
induced  Fielding  to  place  himself  in  such  Empirical  hands 
will  never  be  known. 

According  to  his  own  statement,  however,  he  de- 
rived some  benefit  from  Ward's  treatment,  but  by 
the  following  winter  it  was  decided  that  only  re- 
moval to  a  warmer  climate  could  save  him.  Lisbon 
was  decided  upon  as  the  place  for  his  sojourn,  and 
a  passage  in  a  vessel  trading  to  the  port  was  engaged  for 
the  sick  man,  his  wife,  daughter,  and  two  servants  ;  and 
after  some  delays  they  started.  At  this  point  the  actual 
"Journal  of  a  Voyage  to  Lisbon,"  Fielding's  last  work, 
begins  with  a  well-remembered  entry  : 

"  Wednesday,  June  26th,  1754.— On  this  day,  the  most 
melancholy  sun  I  had  ever  beheld  arose,  and  found  me 
awake  at  ray  house  at  Fordhook,  By  the  light  of  this 
sun,  I  was,  in  my  own  opinion,  last  to  behold  and  take 
leave  of  some  of  those  creatures  on  whom  I  doted  with 
a  mother-like  fondness,  guided  by  nature  and  passion, 
and  uncured  and  unhardened  by  all  the  doctrine  of  that 
philosophical  school  where  I  had  learnt  to  bear  pains  and 
to  despise  death. 

"  In  this  situation,  as  I  could  not  conquer  nature,  I 
submitted  entirely  to  her,  and  she  made  as  great  a  fool 
of  me  as  she  had  ever  done  of  any  woman  whatsoever ; 
under  pretence  of  giving  me  leave  to  enjoy,  she  drew  me 
to  suffer  the  company  of  my  little  ones,  during  eight 
hours  ;  and  I  doubt  not  whether,  in  that  time,  I  did  not 
undergo  more  than  in  all  my  distemper. 

"  At  twelve  precisely  my  coach  was  at  the  door,  which 
was  no  sooner  told  me  than  I  kiss'd  my  children  round, 
and  went  into  it  with  some  little  resolution.  My  wife, 
who  behaved  more  like  a  heroine  and  philosopher,  tho' 
at  the  same  time  the  tenderest  mother  in  the  world,  and 
my  eldest    daughter  followed  me;  some  friends    went 


HENR  Y  FIELDING.  xli 

with  us,  and  others  here  took  their  leave ;  and  I  heard 
my  hehavior  applauded,  with  many  murmurs  and 
praises  to  which  I  well  knew  I  had  no  title  ;  as  all  other 
such  philosophers  may,  if  they  have  any  modesty,  confess 
on  the  like  occasions." 

Two  hours  later  the  party  reached  Rotherhithe.  Here, 
with  the  kindly  assistance  of  his  and  Hogarth's  friend, 
Mr.  Saunders  Welch,  High  Constable  of  Holborn,  the 
sick  man,  who,  at  this  time,  "had  no  use  of  his  limbs," 
was  carried  to  a  boat,  and  hoisted  in  a  chair  over  the 
ship's  side.  This  latter  journey,  far  more  fatiguing-  to 
the  sufferer  than  the  twelve  miles'  ride  which  he  had 
previously  undergone,  was  not  rendered  more  easy  to 
bear  by  the  jests  of  the  watermen  and  sailors,  to  whom 
his  ghastly,  death-stricken  countenance  seemed  matter 
for  merriment ;  and  he  was  greatly  rejoiced  to  find  him- 
self safely  seated  in  the  cabin.  The  voyage,  however, 
already  more  than  once  deferred,  was  not  yet  to  begin. 
Wednesday,  being  King's  Proclamation  Day,  the  vessel 
could  not  be  cleared  at  the  Custom  House ;  and  on  Thurs- 
day the  skipper  announced  that  he  should  not  set  out 
until  Saturday.  As  Fielding's  complaint  was  again 
becoming  troublesome,  and  no  surgeon  was  available  on 
board,  he  sent  for  his  friend,  the  famous  anatomist,  Mr. 
Hunter,  of  Covent  Garden,  by  whom  he  was  tapped,  to 
his  own  relief,  and  the  admiration  of  the  simple  sea-cap- 
tain, who  (he  writes)  was  greatly  impressed  by  "  the 
heroic  constancy  with  which  I  had  borne  an  operation 
that  is  attended  with  scarce  any  degree  of  pain."  On 
Sunday  the  vessel  dropped  down  to  Gravesend,  where, 
on  the  next  day,  Mr.  Welch,  who  until  then  had  attended 
them,  took  his  leave ;  and  Fielding,  relieved  by  the  trocar 
of  any  immediate  apprehensions  of  discomfort,  might,  in 
spite  of  his  forlorn  case,  have  been  fairly  at  ease.  He 
had  a  new  concern,  however,  in  the  state  of  Mrs.  Field- 
ing, who  was  in  agony  with  toothache,  which  successive 
operators  failed  to  relieve  ;  and  there  is  an  unconsciously 
touching  little  picture  of  the  sick  man  and  his  skipper, 


xlii  HENBY  FIELDING. 

who  was  deaf,  sitting1  silently  over  "  a  small  bowl  of 
punch  "  in  the  narrow  cabin,  for  fear  of  waking-  the  pain- 
worn  sleeper  in  the  adjoining  stateroom.  Of  his  second 
wife,  as  may  be  gathered  from  the  opening  words  of  the 
Journal,  Fielding  always  speaks  with  the  warmest 
affection  and  gratitude. 

Finally  they  weighed  anchor  and  managed  to  reach  the 
Nore.  For  more  than  a  week  they  were  wind-bound  in 
the  Downs ;  but  on  the  11th  they  anchored  off  Ryde,  from 
which  place,  on  the  next  morning,  Fielding  despatched 
the  following  letter  to  his  brother.  Besides  giving  the 
name  of  the  captain  and  the  ship,  which  are  carefully 
suppressed  in  "The  Journal,"  it  is  especially  interesting 
as  being  the  last  letter  written  by  Fielding  of  which  we 
have  any  knowledge : 

"  On  board  the  Queen  of  Portugal,  Richd  Veal  at 
anchor  on  the  Mother  Bank,  off  Ryde,  to  the 
Care  of  the  Post  Master  of  Portsmouth— this  is 
my  Date  and  yr  Direction.  July  12,  1754. 

"  Dear  Jack,  After  receiving  that  agreeable  Lre  from 
Messr8  Fielding  and  Co.,  we  weighed  on  monday  morning 
and  sailed  from  Deal  to  the  Westward  Four  Days  long 
but  inconceivably  pleasant  Passage  brought  us  yesterday 
to  an  Anchor  on  the  Mother  Bank,  on  the  Back  of  the 
Isle  of  Wight,  where  we  had  last  Night  in  Safety  the 
Pleasure  of  hearing  the  Winds  roar  over  our  Heads  in  as 
violent  a  Tempest  as  I  have  known,  and  where  my  only 
Consideration  were  the  Fears  which  must  possess  any 
Friend  of  ours,  (if  there  is  happily  any  such)  who  really 
makes  our  Wellbeing  the  Object  of  his  Concern  especially 
if  such  Friend  should  be  totally  inexperienced  in  Sea 
Affairs.  I  therefore  beg  that  on  the  Day  you  receive  this 
Mrs  Daniel*  may  know  that  we  are  just  risen  from  Break- 
fast in  Health  and  Spirits  this  twelfth  Instant  at  9  in  the 
morning.  Our  Voyage  hath  proved  fruitful  in  Adven- 
tures all  which  being  to  be  written  in  the  Book,  you  must 
postpone  yr  Curiosity.   As  the  Incidents  which  fall  under 

*It  will  be  remembered  that  the  maiden-name  of  Fielding's  second 
wife,  as  given  in  the  Eegister  of  St.  Bene't's,  was  Mary  Daniel. 
"Mrs.  Daniel"  was  therefore,  in  all  probability,  Fielding  s  mother- 
in-law  ;  and  it  may  reasonably  be  assumed  that  she  had  remained  in 
charge  of  the  little  family  at  Fordhook. 


HENRY  FIELDING.  xliii 

yr  Cognizance  will  possibly  be  consigned  to  Oblivion,  do 
give  them  to  us  as  they  pass.  Tell  yrN  eighbour  I  am 
much  obliged  to  him  for  recommending  me  to  the  Care  of 
a  most  able  and  experienced  Seaman,  to  whom  other  Cap- 
tains seem  to  pay  such  Deference  that  they  attend  and 
watch  his  Motions,  and  think  themselves  only  safe  when 
they  act  under  his  Direction  and  Example.  Our  ship  in 
Truth  seems  to  give  Laws  on  the  Water  with  as  much 
Authority  and  Superiority  as  3tou  Dispense  Laws  to  the 
Public  and  Examples  to  yr  Brethren  in  Commission. 
Please  to  direct  yr  Answer  to  me  on  Board  as  in  the  Date, 
if  gone  to  be  returned,  and  then  send  it  by  the  Post  and 
Pacquet  to  Lisbon  to  "  Yr  affec*  Brother 

"H.  Fielding 
"  To  John  Fielding  Esq.  at  his  House  in 
Bow  Street  Cov*  Garden  London." 

XII. 

Fielding  lived  to  reach  Lisbon  and  die  there,  on  Octo- 
ber 8, 1754,  in  his  forty-eighth  year.  He  was  buried  in  the 
English  cemetery  there,  and  some  sort  of  a  tomb  was  set 
up  to  him.  His  first  tomb,  which  Wraxall  found,  in 
1772,  "  nearly  concealed  by  weeds  and  nettles,"  was 
erected  by  the  English  factory,  in  consequence  mainly — 
as  it  seems — of  a  proposal  made  by  an  enthusiastic  Chev- 
alier de  Meyrionnet,  to  provide  one  (with  an  epitaph)  at 
his  own  expense.  That  now  existing  was  substituted  in 
1830  by  the  exertions  of  the  Rev.  Christopher  Neville, 
British  chaplain  at  Lisbon.  It  is  a  heavy  sarcophagus, 
resting  upon  a  large  base,  and  surmounted  by  just  such 
another  urn  and  flame  as  that  on  Hogarth's  Tomb  at 
Chiswick.  On  the  front  is  a  long  Latin  inscription ;  on 
the  back  the  better-known  words  : 

"  Luget  Britannia  Gremio  non  dari 
fovere  natum," 

It  is  to  this  last  memorial  that  George  Borrow  re- 
ferred in  his  "  Bible  in  Spain  :" 

"  Let  travelers  devote  one  entire  morning  to  inspect- 
ing the  Arcos  and  the  Mai  das  agoas,  after  which  they 


xliv  HENRY  FIELDING. 

may  repair  to  the  English  church  and  cemetery,  Pere-la- 
chaise  in  miniature,  where,  if  they  he  of  England,  they 
may  well  be  excused  if  they  kiss  the  cold  tomb,  as  I  did, 
of  the  author  of  '  Amelia,'  the  most  singular  genius 
which  their  island  ever  produced,  whose  works  it  has 
long  been  the  fashion  to  abuse  in  public  and  to  read  in 
secret." 

Borrow's  book  was  first  published  in  1843.  Of  late 
years  the  tomb  had  been  somewhat  neglected ;  but  from 
a  communication  in  The  Athenaeum  of  May,  1879,  it 
appears  that  it  had  then  been  recently  cleaned,  and  the 
inscriptions  restored  by  order  of  the  present  chaplain, 
the  Rev.  Godfrey  Pope. 

Fielding  left  two  posthumous  works,  "  The  Journal  of 
a  Voyage  to  Lisbon"  and  a  comedy,  "The  Fathers,  or 
The  Good  Natured  Man."  The  journal  was  published  in 
1755.  It  proved  a  commercial  failure.  The  play  was 
acted  first  in  1778,  by  Garrick,  at  Drury  Lane.  It 
proved  a  failure  too. 

The  literary  life  of  Henry  Fielding  went  out  with  lit- 
tle honor,  as  honor  goes  before  the  gilded  world.  But 
the  splendors  of  his  prime  are  for  him  a  certain  guaran- 
tee of  immortality.  And  always  and  ever,  while  honest 
men  of  letters  tug  at  the  oar  in  the  ink  sea,  his  name  will 
be  to  them  an  inspiration  and  his  life  an  honor  to  their 
craft  and  an  invitation  to  the  sacrifices  that  advance 
civilization,  however  little  profit  they  garner  ;rom  the 
world,  they  benefit  and  ennoble  at  such  terrible  personal 
cost. 

Alfred  Trumble. 

New  York,  August,  1889, 


THE    HISTORY    OF    THE    LIFE 


OF   THE   LATE 


Mr.  Jonathan  Wild  the  Great. 


BOOK    I. 


CHAPTER    I. 

Showing  the  ivholesome  uses  drawn  from  recording  the  achievements 
of  those  wonderful  productions  of  nature  called  Great  Men. 

As  it  is  necessary  that  all  great  and  surprising  events, 
the  designs  of  which  are  laid,  conducted,  and  brought  to 
perfection  by  the  utmost  force  of  human  invention  and 
art,  should  be  produced  by  great  and  eminent  men,  so 
the  lives  of  such  may  be  justly  and  properly  styled  the 
quintessence  of  history.  In  these,  when  delivered  to  us 
by  sensible  writers,  we  are  not  only  most  agreeably  en- 
tertained, but  most  usefully  instructed;  for,  besides  the 
attaining  hence  a  consummate  knowledge  of  human 
nature  in  general ;  of  its  secret  springs,  various  windings, 
and  perplexed  mazes;  we  have  here  before  our  eyes 
lively  examples  of  whatever  is  amiable  or  detestable, 
worthy  of  admiration  or  abhorrence,  and  are  conse- 
quently taught,  in  a  manner  infinitely  more  effectual 
than  by  precept,  what  we  are  eagerly  to  imitate  or  care- 
fully to  avoid. 

But  besides  the  two  obvious  advantages  of  surveying, 
as  it  were  in  a  picture,  the  true  beauty  of  virtue  and  de- 
formity of  vice,  we  may  moreover  learn  from  Plutarch, 


2  JONATHAN   WILD. 

Nepos,  Suetonius,  and  other  biographers,  this  useful 
lesson,  not  too  hastily,  nor  in  the  gross,  to  bestow  either 
our  praise  or  censure;  since  we  shall  often  find,  such  a 
mixture  of  good  and  evil  in  the  same  character  that  it 
may  require  a  very  accurate  judgment  and  a  very  elabo- 
rate inquiry  to  determine  on  which  side  the  balance  turns, 
for  though  we  sometimes  meet  with  an  Aristides  or  a 
Brutus,  a  Lysander  or  a  Nero,  yet  far  the  greater  num- 
ber are  of  the  mixed  kind,  neither  totally  good  nor  bad  ; 
their  greatest  virtues  being  obscured  and  allayed  by  their 
vices,  and  those  again  softened  and  colored  over  by  their 
virtues. 

Of  this  kind  was  the  illustrious  person  whose  history 
we  now  undertake;  to  whom,  though  Nature  had  given 
the  greatest  and  most  shining  endowments,  she  had  not 
given  them  absolutely  pure  and  without  allay.  Though 
he  had  much  of  the  admirable  in  his  character,  as  much 
perhaps  as  is  usually  to  be  found  in  a  hero,  I  will  not  yet 
venture  to  affirm  that  he  was  entirely  free  from  all  de- 
fects, or  that  the  sharp  eyes  of  censure  could  not  spy  out 
some  little  blemishes  lurking  amongst  his  many  great 
perfections. 

We  would  not,  therefore,  be  understood  to  affect  giving 
the  reader  a  perfect  or  consummate  pattern  of  human 
excellence,  but  rather,  by  faithfully  recording  some  little 
imperfections  which  shadowed  over  the  lustre  of  those 
great  qualities  which  we  shall  here  record,  to  teach  the 
lesson  we  have  above  mentioned,  to  induce  our  reader 
with  us  to  lament  the  frailty  of  human  nature,  and  to 
convince  him  that  no  mortal,  after  a  thorough  scrutiny, 
can  be  a  proper  object  of  our  adoration. 

But  before  we  enter  on  this  great  work  we  must  en- 
deavor to  remove  some  errors  of  opinion  which  mankind 
have,  by  the  disingenuity  of  writers,  contracted  for  these, 
from  their  fear  of  contradicting  the  obsolete  and  absurd 
doctrines  of  a  set  of  simple  fellows,  called, in  derision,  sages 
or  philosophers,  have  endeavored,  as  much  as  possible,  to 


JONATHAN  WILD.  3 

confound  the  ideas  of  greatness  and  goodness  ;  whereas 
no  two  things  can  possibly  be  more  distinct  from  each 
other,  for  greatness  consists  in  bringing  all  manner  of 
mischief  on  mankind,  and  goodness  in  removing  it  from 
them.  It  seems  therefore  very  unlikely  that  the  same 
person  should  possess  them  both  ;  and  yet  nothing  is  more 
usual  with  writers,  who  find  many  instances  of  greatness 
in  their  favorite  hero,  than  to  make  him  a  compliment  of 
goodness  into  the  bargain  ;  and  this,  without  considering 
that  by  such  means  they  destroy  the  great  perfection 
called  uniformity  of  character.  In  the  histories  of  Alex- 
ander and  Caesar  we  are  frequently,  and  indeed  imperti- 
nently, reminded  of  their  benevolence  and  generosity,  of 
their  clemency  and  kindness.  When  the  former  had  with 
fire  and  sword  overrun  a  vast  empire,  had  destroyed  the 
lives  of  an  immense  number  of  innocent  wretches,  had 
scattered  ruin  and  desolation  like  a  whirlwind,  we  are 
told,  as  an  example  of  his  clemency,  that  he  did  not  cut 
the  throat  of  an  old  woman,  and  ravish  her  daughters, 
but  was  content  with  only  undoing  them.  And  when  the 
mighty  Caesar,  with  wonderful  greatness  of  mind,  had 
destroyed  the  liberties  of  his  country,  and  with  all  the 
means  of  fraud  and  force  had  placed  himself  at  the  head 
of  his  equals,  had  corrupted  and  enslaved  the  greatest 
people  whom  the  sun  ever  saw,  we  are  reminded,  as  an 
evidence  of  his  generosity,  of  his  largesses  to  his  follow- 
ers and  tools,  by  whose  means  he  had  accomplished  his 
purpose,  and  by  wiiose  assistance  he  was  to  establish  it. 

Now,  who  doth  not  see  that  such  sneaking  qualities  as 
these  are  rather  to  be  bewailed  as  imperfections  than 
admired  as  ornaments  in  these  great  men  ;  rather  obscur- 
ing their  glory,  and  holding  them  back  in  their  race  to 
greatness,  indeed  unworthy  the  end  for  which  they  seem 
to  have  come  into  the  world,  viz  :  of  perpetrating  vast  and 
mighty  mischief  ? 

We  hope  our  reader  will  have  reason  justly  to  acquit 
us  of  any  such  confounding  ideas  in  the  following  pages, 


4  JONATHAN  WILD. 

in  which,  as  we  are  to  record  the  actions  of  a  great  man, 
so  we  have  nowhere  mentioned  any  spark  of  goodness 
which  had  discovered  itself  either  faintly  in  him,  or  more 
glaringly  in  any  other  person,  but  as  a  meanness  and  im- 
perfection, disqualifying  them  for  undertakings  which 
lead  to  honor  and  esteem  among  men. 

As  our  hero  had  as  little  as  perhaps  is  to  be  found  of 
that  meanness,  indeed  only  enough  to  make  him  partaker 
of  the  imperfection  of  humanity,  instead  of  the  perfection 
of  diabolism,  we  have  ventured  to  call  him  The  Great ; 
nor  do  we  doubt  but  our  reader,  when  he  hath  perused 
his  story,  will  concur  with  us  in  allowing  him  that  title. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Giving  an  account  of  as  many  of  our  hero's  ancestors  as  can  be 
gathered  out  of  the  rubbish  of  antiquity,  lohich  hath  been  care- 
fully sifted  for  that  purpose. 

It  is  the  custom  of  all  biographers,  at  their  entrance 
into  their  work,  to  step  a  little  backwards  (as  far,  indeed, 
generally  as  they  are  able)  and  to  trace  up  their  hero,  as 
the  ancients  did  the  river  Nile,  till  an  incapacit}^  of  pro- 
ceeding higher  puts  an  end  to  their  search. 

What  first  gave  rise  to  this  method  is  somewhat  diffi- 
cult to  determine.  Sometimes  I  have  thought  that  the 
hero's  ancestors  have  been  introduced  as  foils  to  himself. 
Again,  I  have  imagined  it  might  be  to  obviate  a  suspi- 
cion that  such  extraordinary  personages  were  not  pro- 
duced in  the  ordinary  course  of  nature,  and  may  have 
proceeded  from  the  author's  fear  that,  if  we  were  not 
told  who  their  fathers  were,  they  might  be  in  danger,  like 
Prince  Prettyman,  of  being  supposed  to  have  had  none. 
Lastly,  and  perhaps  more  truly,  I  have  conjectured  that 
the  design  of  the  biographer  hath  been  no  more  than  to 
show  his  great  learning  and  knowledge  of  antiquity ;  a 


JONATHAN   WILD.  5 

design  to  which  the  world  hath  probably  owed  many  not- 
able discoveries,  and  indeed  most  of  the  labors  of  our 
antiquarians. 

But  whatever  original  this  custom  had,  it  is  now  too 
well  established  to  be  disputed.  I  shall  therefore  conform 
to  it  in  the  strictest  manner. 

Mr.  Jonathan  Wild,  or  Wyld,  then  (for  he  himself  did 
not  always  agree  in  one  method  of  spelling  his  name), 
was  descended  from  the  great  Wolfstan  Wild,  who  came 
over  with  Hengist,  and  distinguished  himself  very  emi- 
nently at  that  famous  festival  where  the  Britons  were  so 
treacherously  murdered  by  the  Saxons ;  for  when  the 
the  word  was  given,  i.  e.,  Nemet  eour  Saxes,  take  out 
your  swords,  this  gentleman,  being  a  little  hard  of  hear- 
ing, mistook  the  sound  for  Nemet  her  sacr,  take  out 
their  purses;  instead  therefore  of  applying  to  the  throat, 
he  immediately  applied  to  the  pocket  of  his  guest,  and 
contented  himself  with  taking  all  that  he  had,  without 
attempting  his  life. 

The  next  ancestor  of  our  hero  who  was  remarkably 
eminent  was  Wild,  surnamed  Langfanger,  or  Longfinger. 
He  flourished  in  the  reign  of  Henry  III.,  and  was  strictly 
attached  to  Hubert  de  Burgh,  whose  friendship  he  was 
recommended  to  by  his  great  excellence  in  an  art  of  which 
Hubert  was  himself  the  inventor  ;  he  could,  without  the 
knowledge  of  the  proprietor,  with  great  ease  and  dex- 
terity, draw  forth  a  man's  purse  from  any  part  of  his 
garment  where  it  was  deposited,  and  hence  he  derived 
his  surname.  This  gentleman  was  the  first  of  his  family 
who  had  the  honor  to  suffer  for  the  good  of  his  country, 
on  whom  a  wit  of  that  time  made  the  following  epitaph: 

O  shame  o'  justice !    Wild  is  hang'd, 
For  thatten  he  a  pocket  fanged, 
While  safe  old  Hubert,  and  his  gang, 
Doth  pocket  o'  the  nation  fang. 

Langfanger  left  a  son  named  Edward,  whom  he  had 
carefully  instructed  in  the  art  for  which  he  himself  was 


6  JONATHAN  WILD. 

so  famous.  This  Edward  had  a  grandson,  who  served  as 
a  volunteer  under  the  famous  Sir  John  Falstaff ,  and  by 
his  gallant  demeanor  so  recommended  himself  to  his  cap- 
tain, that  he  would  have  certainly  been  promoted  by  him 
had  Harry  the  Fifth  kept  his  word  with  his  old  com- 
panion. 

After  the  death  of  Edward  the  family  remained  in  some 
obscurity  down  to  the  reign  of  Charles  the  First,  when 
James  Wild  distinguished  himself  on  both  sides  the  ques- 
tion in  the  civil  wars,  passing  from  one  to  t'other,  as 
Heaven  seemed  to  declare  itself  in  favor  of  either  party. 
At  the  end  of  the  war,  James  not  being  rewarded  accord- 
ing to  his  merits,  as  is  usually  the  case  of  such  impartial 
persons,  he  associated  himself  with  a  brave  man  of  those 
times,  whose  name  was  Hind,  and  declared  open  war  with 
both  parties  He  was  successful  in  several  actions,  and 
spoiled  many  of  the  enemy;  till  at  length,  being  over- 
powered and  taken,  he  was,  contrary  to  the  law  of  arms, 
put  basely  and  cowardly  to  death  by  a  combination  be- 
tween twelve  men  of  the  enemy's  party,  who,  after  some 
consultation,  unanimously  agreed  on  the  said  murder. 

This  Edward  took  to  wife  Rebecca,  the  daughter  of  the 
above  mentioned  John  Hind,  Esq.,  by  whom  he  had  issue 
John,  Edward,  Thomas,  and  Jonathan,  and  three  daugh- 
ters, namely,  Grace,  Charity,  and  Honor.  John  followed 
the  fortunes  of  his  father,  and,  suffering  with  him,  left  no 
issue.  Edward  was  so  remarkable  for  his  compassionate 
temper  that  he  spent  his  life  in  soliciting  the  causes  of  the 
distressed  captives  in  Newgate,  and  is  reported  to  have 
held  a  strict  friendship  with  an  eminent  divine  who  so- 
licited the  spiritual  causes  of  the  said  captives.  He  mar- 
ried Editha,  daughter  and  co-heiress  of  Geoffry  Snap, 
gent.,  who  long  enjoyed  an  office  under  the  high  sheriff 
of  London  and  Middlesex,  by  which  with  great  reputation, 
he  acquired  a  handsome  fortune;  by  her  he  had  no  issue. 
Thomas  went  very  young  abroad  to  one  of  our  American 
colonies,  and  hath  not  been  since  heard  of.     As  for  the 


JONATHAN  WILD.  7 

daughters,  Grace  was  married  to  a  merchant  of  York- 
shire, who  dealt  in  horses.  Charity  took  to  husband  an 
eminent  gentleman,  whose  name  I  cannot  learn,  but  who 
was  famous  for  so  friendly  a  disposition  that  he  was  bail 
for  above  a  hundred  persons  in  one  year.  He  had  like- 
wise the  remarkable  humor  of  walking  in  Westminster 
Hall  with  a  straw  in  his  shoe.  Honor,  the  youngest, 
died  unmarried;  she  lived  many  years  in  this  town,  was  a 
great  frequenter  of  plays,  and  used  to  be  remarkable  for 
distributing  oranges  to  all  who  would  accept  of  them. 

Jonathan  married  Elizabeth,  daughter  of  Scragg  Hol- 
low, of  Hockley-in-the-Hole,  Esq.,  and  by  her  had  Jona- 
than, who  is  the  illustrious  subject  of  these  memoirs. 


CHAPTER    III. 

The  birth,  parentage,  and  education  of  Mr.  Jonathan  Wild  the 

Great. 

It  is  observable  that  Nature  seldom  produces  suny  one 
who  is  afterwards  to  act  a  notable  part  on  the  stage  of 
life,  but  she  gives  some  warning  of  her  intention  ;  and,  as 
the  dramatic  poet  generally  prepares  the  entry  of  every 
considerable  character  with  a  solemn  narrative,  or  at 
least  a  great  flourish  of  drums  and  trumpets,  so  doth  this 
our  Alma  Mater  by  some  shrewd  hints  pre-admonish  us 
of  her  intention,  giving  us  warning,  as  it  were,  and  cry- 
ing— 

Venienti  occurite  morbo. 

Thus  Astyages,  who  was  the  grandfather  of  Cyrus, 
dreamt  that  his  daughter  was  brought  to  bed  of  a  vine, 
whose  branches  overspread  all  Asia ;  and  Hecuba,  while 
big  with  Paris,  dreamt  that  she  was  delivered  of  a  fire- 
brand that  set  all  Troy  in  flames ;  so  did  the  mother  of 
our  great  man,  while  she  was  of  child  with  him,  dream 
that  she  was  enjoyed  in  the  night  by  the  gods  Mercury 


8  JONATHAN  WILD. 

and  Priapus.  This  dream  puzzled  all  the  learned  astrol- 
ogers of  her  time,  seeming-  to  imply  in  it  a  contradiction  ; 
Mercury  being  the  god  of  ingenuity,  and  Priapus  the 
terror  of  those  who  practised  it.  What  made  this  dream 
the  more  wonderful,  and  perhaps  the  true  cause  of  its 
being  remembered,  was  a  very  extraordinary  circum- 
stance, sufficiently  denoting  something  preternatural  in  it; 
for  though  she  had  never  heard  even  the  name  of  either 
of  these  gods,  she  repeated  these  very  words  in  the  morn- 
ing, with  only  a  small  mistake  of  the  quantity  of  the 
latter,  which  she  chose  to  call  Priapus  instead  of  Priapus; 
and  her  husband  swore  that,  though  he  might  possibly 
have  named  Mercury  to  her  (for  he  had  heard  of  such  an 
heathen  god),  he  never  in  his  life  could  anywise  have  put 
her  in  mind  of  that  other  deity,  with  whom  he  had  no 
acquaintance. 

Another  remarkable  incident  was,  that  during  her 
whole  pregnancy  she  constantly  longed  for  everything  she 
saw;  nor  could  be  satisfied  with  her  wish  unless  she 
enjoyed  it  clandestinely  ;  and  as  nature,  by  true  and 
accurate  observers,  is  remarked  to  give  us  no  appetites 
without  furnishing  us  with  the  means  of  gratifying  them, 
so  had  she  at  this  time  a  most  marvelous  glutinous 
quality  attending  her  fingers,  to  which,  as  to  birdlime, 
everything  closely  adhered  that  she  handled. 

To  omit  other  stories,  some  of  which  may  be,  perhaps, 
the  growth  of  superstition,  we  proceed  to  the  birth  of  our 
hero,  who  made  his  first  appearance  on  this  great  theatre 
the  very  day  when  the  plague  first  broke  out  in  1665. 
Some  say  his  mother  was  delivered  of  him  in  an  house  of 
an  orbicular  or  round  form  in  Covent  Garden;  but  of  this 
we  are  not  certain.  He  was  some  years  afterwards  bap- 
tized by  the  famous  Mr.  Titus  Oates. 

Nothing  very  remarkable  passed  in  his  years  of  infancy, 
save  that,  as  the  letters  th  are  the  most  difficult  of  pro- 
nunciation, and  the  last  which  a  child  attains  to  the  utter- 
ance of,  so  they  were  the  first  that  came  with  any  readi- 


JONATHAN  WILD.  9 

ness  from  young-  Master  Wild.  Nor  must  we  omit  the 
early  indications  which  he  gave  of  the  sweetness  of  his 
temper;  for  though  he  was  hy  no  means  to  he  terrified 
into  compliance,  yet  might  he,  by  a  sugar-plum,  he 
brought  to  your  purpose;  indeed,  to  say  the  truth,  he  was 
to  be  bribed  to  anything,  which  made  many  say  he  was 
certainly  born  to  be  a  great  man. 

He  was  scarcely  settled  at  school  before  he  gave  marks 
of  his  lofty  and  aspiring  temper  and  was  regarded  by  all 
his  schoolfellows  with  that  deference  which  men  gener- 
ally pay  to  those  superior  geniuses  who  will  exact  it  of 
them.  If  an  orchard  was  to  be  robbed  Wild  was  con- 
sulted, and  though  he  was  himself  seldom  concerned  in 
the  execution  of  the  design,  yet  was  he  always  concerter 
of  it,  and  treasurer  of  the  booty,  some  little  part  of  which 
he  would  now  and  then,  with  wonderful  generosity, 
bestow  on  those  who  took  it.  He  was  generally  very 
secret  on  these  occasions,  but  if  any  offered  to  plunder  of 
his  own  head,  without  acquainting  Master  Wild,  and 
making  a  deposit  of  the  booty,  he  was  sure  to  have  an 
information  against  him  lodged  with  the  schoolmaster, 
and  to  be  severely  punished  for  his  pains. 

He  discovered  so  little  attention  to  school-learning  that 
his  master,  who  was  a  very  wise  and  worthy  man,  soon 
gave  over  all  care  and  trouble  on  that  account,  and,  ac- 
quainting his  parents  that  their  son  proceeded  extremely 
well  in  his  studies,  he  permitted  his  pupil  to  follow  his 
own  inclinations,  perceiving  they  led  him  to  nobler  pur- 
suits than  the  sciences,  which  are  generally  acknowl- 
edged to  be  a  very  unprofitable  study,  and  indeed  greatly 
to  hinder  the  advancement  of  men  in  the  world;  but 
though  Master  Wild  was  not  esteemed  the  readiest  at 
making  his  exercise,  he  was  universally  allowed  to  be  the 
most  dexterous  at  stealing  it  of  all  his  schoolfellows 
being  never  detected  in  such  furtive  compositions,  nor 
indeed  in  any  other  exercitations  of  his  great  talents, 
which  all  inclined  the  same  way,  but  once,  when  he  had 


10  JONATHAN  WILD. 

laid  violent  hands  on  a  book  called  Oradus  ad  Parnas- 
sian, i.  e.,  A  step  toivards  Parnassus,  on  which  account 
his  master,  who  was  a  man  of  most  wonderful  wit  and 
sagacity,  is  said  to  have  told  him  he  wished  it  might  not 
prove  in  the  event  Gradus  ad  Patibulum,  i.  e.,A  step 
towards  the  galloivs. 

But,  though  he  would  not  give  himself  the  pains  re- 
quisite to  acquire  a  competent  sumciencj"  in  the  learned 
languages,  yet  did  he  readily  listen  with  attention  to 
others,  especially  when  they  translated  the  classical 
authors  to  him;  nor  was  he  in  the  least  backward,  at  all 
such  times,  to  express  his  approbation.  He  was  wonder- 
fully pleased  with  that  passage  in  the  eleventh  Iliad 
where  Achilles  is  said  to  have  bound  two  sons  of  Priam 
upon  a  mountain,  and  afterwards  to  have  released  them 
for  a  sum  of  money.  This  was,  he  said,  alone  sufficient 
to  refute  those  who  affected  a  contempt  for  the  wisdom 
of  the  ancients,  and  an  undeniable  testimony  of  the  great 
antiquity  of  priggism.*  He  was  ravished  with  the  ac- 
count which  Nestor  gives  in  the  same  book  of  the  rich 
booty  which  he  bore  off  (i.  e.,  stole)  from  the  Eleans. 
He  was  desirous  of  having  this  often  repeated  to  him, 
and  at  the  end  of  every  repetition  he  constantly  fetched  a 
deep  sigh,  and  said  it  was  a  glorious  booty. 

When  the  story  of  Cacus  was  read  to  him  out  of  the 
eighth  .5Cneid  he  generously  pitied  the  unhappy  fate  of 
that  great  man,  to  whom  he  thought  Hercules  much  too 
severe;  one  of  his  schoolfellows  commending  the  dexterity 
of  drawing  the  oxen  backward  by  their  tails  into  his  den, 
he  smiled,  and  with  some  disdain  said,  He  could  have 
taught  him  a  better  way. 

He  was  a  passionate  admirer  of  heroes,  particularly  of 
Alexander  the  Great,  between  whom  and  the  late  King 
of  Sweden  he  would  frequently  draw  parallels.  He  was 
much  delighted  with  the  accounts  of  the  Czar's  retreat 
from  the  latter,  who  carried  off  the  inhabitants  of  great 

*  This  word,  in  the  cant  language,  signifies  thievery. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  11 

cities  to  people  his  own  countay.  This,  he  said,  was  not 
once  thought  of  by  Alexander;  but  added,  perhaps  he 
did  not  want  them. 

Happy  had  it  been  for  him  if  he  had  confined  himself 
to  this  sphere;  but  his  chief,  if  not  only  blemish,  was, 
that  he  would  sometimes,  from  an  humility  in  his  nature 
too  pernicious  to  true  greatness,  condescend  to  an  inti- 
macy with  inferior  things  and  persons.  Thus  the  Span- 
ish Rogue  was  his  favorite  book,  and  the  Cheats  of 
Scapin  his  favorite  play. 

The  young  gentleman  being  now  at  the  age  of  seven- 
teen, his  father,  from  a  foolish  prejudice  to  our  univer- 
sities, and  out  of  a  false  as  w  ell  as  excessive  regard  to 
his  morals,  brought  his  son  to  town,  where  he  resided 
with  him  till  he  was  of  an  age  to  travel.  Whilst  he  was 
here,  all  imaginable  care  was  taken  of  his  instruction, 
his  father  endeavoring  his  utmost  to  inculcate  principles 
of  honor  and  gentility  into  his  son. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Mr.    Wild's  first  entrance   into  the  world.     His  acquaintance  with 

Count  La  Ruse. 

An  accident  happened  soon  after  his  arrival  in  town 
which  almost  saved  the  father  his  whole  labor  on  this 
head,  and  provided  Master  Wild  a  better  tutor  than  any 
after-care  or  expense  could  have  furnished  him  with. 
The  old  gentleman,  it  seems,  was  a  follower  of  the  for- 
tunes of  Mr.  Snap,  son  of  Mr.  Geoffry  Snap,  whom  we 
have  before  mentioned  to  have  enjoyed  a  reputable  office 
under  the  sheriff  of  London  and  Middlesex,  the  daughter 
of  which  Geoffry  had  intermarried  with  the  Wilds.  Mr. 
Snap  the  younger,  being  thereto  well  warranted,  had  laid 
violent  hands  on,  or,  as  the  vulgar  express  it,  arrested 
one  Count  La  Ruse,  a  man  of  considerable  figure  in  those 


12  JONATHAN  WILD. 

days,  and  had  confined  him  to  his  own  house  till  he  could 
find  two  seconds  who  would  in  a  formal  manner  give  their 
words  that  the  count  should,  at  a  a  certain  day  and  place 
appointed,  answer  all  that  one  Thomas  Thimble,  a  tailor, 
had  to  say  to  him ;  which  Thomas  Thimble,  it  seems,  al- 
leged that  the  count  had,  according-  to  the  law  of  the 
realm,  made  over  his  body  to  him  as  a  security  for  some 
suits  of  clothes  to  him  delivered  by  the  said  Thomas 
Thimble.  Now,  as  the  count,  though  perfectly  a  man  of 
honor,  could  not  immediately  find  these  seconds,  he  was 
obliged  for  some  time  to  reside  at  Mr.  Snap's  house ; 
for  it  seems  the  law  of  the  land  is,  that  whoever  owes  an- 
other 101.,  or  indeed  21.,  may  be,  on  the  oath  of  that  per- 
son, immediately  taken  up  and  carried  away  from  his  own 
house  and  family,  and  kept  abroad  till  he  is  made  to  owe 
501.,  whether  he  will  or  no ;  for  which  he  is  perhaps  after- 
wards obliged  to  lie  in  jail ;  and  all  these  without  any 
trial  had, or  any  other  evidence  of  the  debt  than  the  above- 
said  oath,  which,  if  untrue,  as  it  often  happens,  you  have 
no  remedy  against  the  perjurer ;  he  was,  forsooth,  mis- 
taken. 

But  though  Mr.  Snap  would  not  (as  perhaps  by  the  nice 
rules  of  honor  he  was  obliged)  discharge  the  count  on  his 
parole,  yet  did  he  not  (as  by  the  strict  rules  of  law  he  was 
enabled)  confine  him  to  his  chamber.  The  count  had  his 
liberty  of  the  whole  house,  and  Mr.  Snap,  using  only  the 
precaution  of  keeping  his  doors  well  locked  and  barred, 
took  his  prisoner's  word  that  he  would  not  go  forth. 

Mr.  Snap  had  by  his  second  lady  two  daughters,  who 
were  now  in  the  bloom  of  their  youth  and  beauty.  These 
young  ladies,  like  damsels  in  romance,  compassionated 
the  captive  count,  and  endeavored  by  all  means  to  make 
his  confinement  less  irksome  to  him ;  which,  though  they 
were  both  very  beautiful,  they  could  not  attain  by  any 
other  way  so  effectually  as  by  engaging  with  him  at 
cards,  in  which  contentions,  as  will  appear  hereafter,  the 
count  was  greatly  skillful. 


JONATHAN    WILD.  13 

As  whisk  and  swabbers  was  the  game  then  in  the  chief 
vogue,  they  were  obliged  to  look  for  a  fourth  person  in 
order  to  make  up  their  parties.  Mr.  Snap  himself  would 
sometimes  relax  his  mind  from  the  violent  fatigues  of  his 
employment  by  these  recreations ;  and  sometimes  a  neigh- 
boring young  gentleman  or  lady  came  in  to  their  assist- 
ance ;  but  the  most  frequent  guest  was  young  Master 
Wild,  who  had  been  educated  from  his  infancy  with  tbe 
Miss  Snaps,  and  was,  by  all  the  neighbors,  allotted  for 
the  husband  of  Miss  Tishy,  or  Leetitia,  the  younger  of  the 
two ;  for  though,  being  his  cousin-german,  she  was,  per- 
haps, in  the  eye  of  a  strict  conscience,  somewhat  too  nearly 
related  to  him,  yet  the  old  people  on  both  sides,  though 
sufficiently  scrupulous  in  nice  matters,  agreed  to  overlook 
this  objection. 

Men  of  great  genius  as  easily  discover  one  another  as 
free-masons  can.  It  was  therefore  no  wonder  that  the 
count  soon  conceived  an  inclination  to  an  intimacy  with 
our  young  hero,  whose  vast  abilities  could  not  be  con- 
cealed from  one  of  the  count's  discernment,  for  though 
this  latter  was  so  expert  at  his  cards  that  he  wTas  proverbi- 
ally said  to  play  the  whole  game,  he  was  no  match  for 
Master  Wild,  who,  inexperienced  as  he  was,  notwithstand- 
ing all  the  art,  the  dexterity,  and  often  the  fortune  of  his 
adversary,  never  failed  to  send  him  away  from  the  table 
with  less  in  his  pocket  than  he  brought  to  it,  for  indeed 
Langf anger  himself  could  not  have  extracted  a  purse  with 
more  ingenuity  than  our  young  hero. 

His  hands  made  frequent  visits  to  the  count's  pocket 
before  the  latter  had  entertained  any  suspicion  of  him, 
imputing  the  several  losses  he  sustained  rather  to  the  in- 
nocent and  sprightly  frolic  of  Miss  Doshy,  or  Theodosia, 
with  which,  as  she  indulged  him  with  little  innocent  free- 
doms about  her  person  in  return,  he  thought  himself 
obliged  to  be  contented  ;  but  one  night,  when  Wild  im- 
agined the  count  asleep,  he  made  so  unguarded  an  attack 
upon  him,  that  the  other  caught  him  in  the  act ;  however, 


14  JONATHAN  WILD. 

he  did  not  think  proper  to  acquaint  him  with  the  discov- 
ery he  had  made,  but,  preventing  him  from  any  booty  at 
that  time,  he  only  took  care  for  the  future  to  button  his 
pockets,  and  to  pack  the  cards  with  double  industry. 

So  far  was  this  detection  from  causing  any  quarrel 
between  these  two  prigs*,  that  in  reality  it  recommended 
them  to  each  other ;  for  a  wise  man,  that  is  to  say  a 
rogue,  considers  a  trick  in  life  as  a  gamester  doth  a  trick 
at  play.  It  sets  him  on  his  guard,  but  he  admires  the 
dexterity  of  him  who  plays  it.  These,  therefore,  and 
many  other  such  instances  of  ingenuity,  operated  so  vio- 
lently on  the  count,  that,  notwithstanding  the  disparity 
which  age,  title,  and  above  all,  dress,  had  set  between 
them,  he  resolved  to  enter  into  an  acquaintance  with 
Wild.  This  soon  produced  a  perfect  intimacy,  and  that 
a  friendship,  which  had  a  longer  duration  than  is  common 
to  that  passion  between  persons  who  only  propose  to 
themselves  the  common  advantages  of  eating,  drinking, 
whoring,  or  borrowing  money  ;  which  ends,  as  they  soon 
fail,  so  doth  the  friendship  founded  upon  them.  Mutual 
interest,  the  greatest  of  all  purposes,  was  the  cement  of 
this  alliance,  which  nothing,  of  consequence,  but  superior 
interest,  was  capable  of  dissolving. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A  dialogue  between  young  Master  Wild  and  Count  La  Ruse,  which, 
having  extended  to  the  rejoinder,  had  a  very  quiet,  easy  and 
natural  conclusion. 

One  evening,  after  the  Miss  Snaps  were  retired  to  rest, 
the  count  thus  addressed  himself  to  young  Wild  :  "  You 
cannot,  I  apprehend,  Mr.  Wild,  be  such  a  stranger  to 
your  own  great  capacity,  as  to  be  surprised  when  I  tell 
you  I  have  often  viewed  with  a  mixture  of  astonishment 

♦Thieves. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  15 

and  concern,  your  shining-  qualities  confined  to  a  sphere 
where  they  can  never  reach  the  eyes  of  those  who  would 
introduce  them  properly  into  the  world,  and  raise  you  to 
an  eminence  where  you  may  blaze  out  to  "the  admiration 
of  all  men.  I  assure  you  I  am  pleased  with  my  captivity, 
when  I  reflect  I  am  likely  to  owe  to  it  an  acquaintance, 
and  I  hope  friendship,  with  the  greatest  genius  of  my 
age ;  and,  what  is  still  more,  when  I  indulge  my  vanity 
with  a  prospect  of  drawing  from  obscurity  (pardon  the 
expression)  such  talents  as  were,  I  believe,  never  before 
like  to  have  been  buried  in  it ;  for  I  make  no  question  but, 
at  my  discharge  from  confinement,  which  will  now  soon 
happen,  I  shall  be  able  to  introduce  you  into  company, 
where  you  may  reap  the  advantage  of  your  superior 
parts. 

"I  will  bring  you  acquainted,  sir,  with  those  who,  as 
they  are  capable  of  setting  a  true  value  on  such  qualifica- 
tions, so  they  will  have  it  both  in  their  power  and  inclina- 
tion to  prefer  you  for  them.  Such  an  introduction  is  the 
only  advantage  you  want,  without  which  your  merit 
might  be  your  misfortune  ;  for  those  abilities  which,  would 
entitle  you  to  honor  and  profit  in  a  superior  station  may 
render  you  only  obnoxious  to  danger  and  disgrace  in  a 
lower." 

Mr.  Wild  answered :  "Sir,  1  am  not  insensible  of  my 
obligations  to  you,  as  well  for  the  overvalue  you  have  set 
on  my  small  abilities,  as  for  the  kindness  you  express  in 
offering  to  introduce  me  among  my  superiors.  I  must 
own  my  father  hath  often  persuaded  me  to  push  myself 
into  the  company  of  my  betters  ;  but,  to  say  the  truth,  1 
have  an  awkward  pride  in  my  nature,  which  is  better 
pleased  with  being  at  the  head  of  the  lowest  class  than  at 
the  bottom  of  the  highest.  Permit  me  to  say,  though  the 
idea  may  be  somewhat  coarse,  I  had  rather  stand  on  the 
summit  of  a  dunghill  than  at  the  bottom  of  a  hill  in  Para- 
dise. 1  have  always  thought  it  signifies  little  into  what 
rank  of  life  I  am  thrown,  provided  I  make  a  great  figure 


16  JONATHAN  WILD. 

therein,  and  should  be  as  well  satisfied  with  exerting-  my 
talents  well  at  the  head  of  a  small  party  or  gang-,  as  in 
the  command  of  a  mighty  army ;  for  I  am  far  from 
agreeing  with  you,  that  great  parts  are  often  lost  in  a 
low  situation ;  on  the  contrary,  I  am  convinced  it  is 
impossible  they  should  be  lost.  I  have  often  persuaded 
myself  that  there  were  not  fewer  than  a  thousand  in 
Alexander's  troops  capable  of  performing  what  Alexander 
himself  did. 

"  But,  because  such  spirits  were  not  elected  or  destined 
to  an  imperial  command,  are  we  therefore  to  imagine  they 
came  off  without  a  booty  ?  or  that  they  contented  them- 
selves with  the  share  in  common  with  their  comrades  ? 
Surely,  no.  In  civil  life,  doubtless,  the  same  genius,  the 
same  endowments,  have  often  composed  the  statesman 
and  the  prig,  for  so  we  call  what  the  vulgar  name  a 
thief.  The  same  parts,  the  same  actions,  often  promote 
men  to  the  head  of  superior  societies,  which  raise  them  to 
the  head  of  lower ;  and  where  is  the  essential  difference 
if  the  one  ends  on  Tower-hill  and  the  other  at  Tyburn  ? 
Hath  the  block  any  preference  to  the  gallows,  or  the  axe 
to  the  halter,  but  was  given  them  by  the  ill-guided  judg- 
ment of  men  ?  You  will  pardon  me,  therefore,  if  I  am 
not  so  hastily  inflamed  with  the  common  outside  of 
things,  nor  join  the  general  opinion  in  preferring  one  state 
to  another.  A  guinea  is  as  valuable  in  a  leathern  as  in 
an  embroidered  purse ;  and  a  cod's  head  is  a  cod's  head 
still,  whether  in  a  pewter  or  a  silver  dish." 

The  count  replied  as  follows  :  "  What  you  have  now  said 
doth  not  lessen  my  idea  of  your  capacity,  but  confirms  my 
opinion  of  the  ill  effects  of  bad  and  low  company.  Can 
any  man  doubt  whether  it  is  better  to  be  a  great  states- 
man or  a  common  thief  ?  I  have  often  heard  that  the 
devil  used  to  say,  where  or  to  whom  I  know  not,  that  it 
was  better  to  reign  in  Hell  than  to  be  a  valet- de-chambre 
in  Heaven,  and  perhaps  he  was  in  the  right ;  but  sure,  if 
he  had  had  the  choice  of  reigning  in  either,  he  would  have 


JONATHAN   WILD.  17 

chosen  better.  The  truth  therefore  is,  that  by  low  con- 
versation we  contract  a  greater  awe  for  high  things  than 
they  deserve.  We  decline  great  pursuits  not  from  con- 
tempt but  despair.  The  man  who  prefers  the  highroad 
to  a  more  reputable  way  of  making  his  fortune,  doth  it 
because  he  imagines  the  one  easier  than  the  other ; 
but  you  yourself  have  asserted,  and  with  undoubted  truth, 
that  the  same  abilities  qualify  you  for  undertaking,  and 
the  same  means  will  bring  you  to  your  end  in  both 
journeys — as  in  music  it  is  the  same  tune,  whether  you 
play  it  in  a  higher  or  a  lower  key.  To  instance  in  some 
particulars  :  is  it  not  the  same  qualification  which  enables 
this  man  to  hire  himself  as  a  servant,  and  to  get  into  the 
confidence  and  secrets  of  his  master  in  order  to  rob  him, 
and  to  undertake  trusts  of  the  highest  nature  with  a 
design  to  break  and  betray  them  ?  Is  it  less  difficult  by 
false  tokens  to  deceive  a  shopkeeper  into  the  delivery  of 
his  goods,  which  you  afterwards  ran  away  with,  than  to 
impose  upon  him  by  outward  splendor  and  the  appear- 
ance of  fortune  into  a  credit  by  which  you  gain  and  he 
loses  twenty  times  as  much  ?  Doth  it  not  require  more 
dexterity  in  the  fingers  to  draw  out  a  man's  purse  from 
his  pocket,  or  to  take  a  lady's  watch  from  her  side,  with- 
out being  perceived  of  any  (an  excellence  in  which,  with- 
out flattery,  I  am  persuaded  you  have  no  superior),  than 
to  cog  a  die  or  to  shuffle  a  pack  of  cards  ?  Is  not  as 
much  art,  as  many  excellent  qualities,  required  to  make 
a  pimping  porter  at  a  common  bawdy-house  as  would 
enable  a  man  to  prostitute  his  own  or  his  friend's  wife  or 
child  ?  Doth  it  not  ask  as  good  a  memory,  as  nimble  an 
invention,  as  steady  a  countenance,  to  forswear  yourself 
in  Westminster-hall  as  would  furnish  out  a  complete  fool 
of  state,  or  perhaps  a  statesman  himself  ?  It  is  needless 
to  particularize  every  instance  ;  in  all  we  shall  find  that 
there  is  a  nearer  connection  between  high  and  low  life  than 
is  generally  imagined,  and  that  a  highwayman  is  entitled 
to  more  favor  with  the  great  than  he  usually  meets  with. 


18  JONATHAN  WILD. 

If,  therefore,  as  I  think  I  have  proved,  the  same  parts 
which  qualify  a  man  for  eminence  in  a  low  sphere,  qualify 
him  likewise  for  eminence  in  a  higher,  sure  it  can   be  no 
doubt  in  which  he  would  choose  to  exert  them.     Ambition, 
without  which  no  one  can  be  a  great  man,  will  immedi- 
ately instruct  him,  in  your  own  phrase,  to  prefer  a  hill  in 
Paradise  to  a  dunghill;  nay,  even  fear,  a  passion  the 
most  repugnant  to  greatness,  will  show  him  how  much 
more  safely  he  may  indulge  himself  in  the  free  and  full 
exertion  of  his  mighty  abilities  in  the  higher  than  in  the 
lower  rank  ;  since  experience  teaches  him  that  there  is  a 
crowd  oftener  in  one  year  at  Tyburn  than  on  Tower- hill 
in  a  century."     Mr.  Wild,  with  much  solemnity  rejoined, 
"  That  the  same  capacity  which  qualifies  a  mill-ken,*  a 
bridle-cull,f    or    a    buttock-and-file,J   to   arrive  at  any 
degree  of  eminence  in  his  profession,  would  likewise  raise 
a  man  in  what  the  world  esteem  a  more  honorable  calling, 
I  do  not  deny  ;  nay,  in  many  of  your  instances  it  is  evi- 
dent that  more  ingenuity,  more  art,  is  necessary  to  the 
lower  than  the  higher  proficients.     If,  therefore,  you  had 
only  contended  that  every  prig  might  be  a  statesman 
if  he  pleased,  I  had    readily  agreed  to  it ;  but  when 
you     conclude    that    it   is  his    interest  to   be    so,    that 
ambition  would  bid  him  take  that  alternative,  in  a  word, 
that  a  statesman  is  greater  or  happier  than  a  prig,  I 
must  deny  my  assent.     But,  in  comparing  these  two  to- 
gether, we  must  carefully  avoid  being  misled  by  the  vul- 
gar erroneous  estimation  of  things,  for  mankind  err  in 
disquisitions  of  this  nature  as  pl^sicians  do  who  in  con- 
sidering the  operations  of  a  disease  have  not  a  due  regard 
to  the  age  and  complexion  of  the  patient.     The  same  de- 
gree of  heat  which  is  common  in  this  constitution  may  be 
a  fever  in  that ;  in  the  same  manner  that  which  may  be 
riches  or  honor  to  me  may  be  poverty  or  disgrace  to 
another ;  for  all  these  things  are  to  be  estimated  by  rela- 

*  A  housebreaker.  t  A  highwayman, 

t  A  shoplifter.      Terms  used  in  the  Cant  Dictionary. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  19 

tion  to  the  person  who  possesses  them.  A  booty  of  10?. 
looks  as  great  in  the  eye  of  a  bridle-cull,  and  gives  as 
much  real  happiness  to  his  fancy,  as  that  of  as  many 
thousands  to  the  statesman  ;  and  doth  not  the  former  lay 
out  his  acquisitions  in  whores  and  fiddles  with  much 
greater  joy  and  mirth  than  the  latter  in  palaces  and  pic- 
tures ?  What  are  the  flattery,  the  false  compliments  of 
his  gang  to  the  statesman,  when  he  himself  must  con- 
demn his  own  blunders,  and  is  obliged  against  his  will  to 
give  fortune  the  whole  honor  of  success  ?  What  is  the 
pride  resulting  from  such  sham  applause,  compared  to 
the  secret  satisfaction  which  a  prig  enjoys  in  his  mind  in 
reflecting  on  a  well-contrived  and  well-executed  scheme  ? 
Perhaps,  indeed,  the  greater  danger  is  on  the  prig's  side ; 
but  then  j^ou  must  remember  that  the  greater  honor  is  so 
too.  When  I  mention  honor,  I  mean  that  which  is  paid 
him  b3^  his  gang ;  for  that  weak  part  of  the  wTorld  which 
is  vulgarly  called  THE  WISE  see  both  in  a  disadvan- 
tageous and  disgraceful  light;  and  as  the  prig  enjoys 
(and  merits  too)  the  greater  degree  of  honor  from  his 
gang,  so  doth  he  suffer  the  less  disgrace  from  the  world, 
who  thinks  his  misdeeds,  as  they  call  them,  sufficiently 
at  last  punished  with  a  halter,  which  at  once  puts  an  end 
to  his  pain  and  infamy ;  whereas  the  other  is  not  only 
hated  in  power,  but  detested  and  condemned  at  the  scaf- 
fold ;  and  future  ages  vent  their  malice  on  his  fame,  while 
the  other  sleeps  quiet  and  forgotten.  Besides,  let  us  a 
little  consider  the  secret  quiet  of  their  conscience ;  how 
easy  is  the  reflection  of  having  taken  a  few  shillings  or 
pounds  from  a  stranger,  without  any  breach  of  confi- 
dence, or  perhaps  any  great  harm  to  the  person  who 
loses  it,  compared  to  that  of  having  betrayed  a  public 
trust,  and  ruined  the  fortunes  of  thousands,  perhaps  of  a 
great  nation  !  How  much  braver  is  an  attack  on  the 
highway  than  at  the  gaming-table  ;  and  how  much  more 
innocent  the  character  of  a  b — dy-house  than  a  c — t 
pimp  ! '      He  was  eagerly  proceeding,  when,  casting  his 


20  JONATHAN  WILD. 

eyes  on  the  count,  he  perceived  him  to  be  fast  asleep ; 
wherefore,  having  first  picked  his  pocket  of  three  shil- 
lings, then  gently  jogged  him  in  order  to  take  his  leave, 
and  promised  to  return  to  him  the  next  morning  to  break- 
fast, they  separated  ;  the  count  retired  to  rest,  and  Mas- 
ter Wild  to  a  night-cellar. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Further   conferences    between    the    count    and    Master    Wild,    with 
other  matters  of  the  great  kind. 

The  count  missed  his  money  the  next  morning,  and 
very  well  knew  who  had  it;  but,  as  he  knew  likewise  how 
fruitless  would  be  any  complaint,  he  chose  to  pass  it  by 
without  mentioning  it.  Indeed  it  may  appear  strange  to 
some  readers  that  these  gentlemen,  who  knew  each  other 
to  be  thieves,  should  never  once  give  the  least  hint  of  this 
knowledge  in  all  their  discourse  together,  but,  on  the  con- 
trary, should  have  the  words  honesty,  honor,  and  friend- 
ship as  often  in  their  mouths  as  any  other  man.  This,  I 
say,  may  appear  strange  to  some ;  but  those  who  have 
lived  long  in  cities,  courts,  jails,  or  such  places,  will 
perhaps  be  able  to  solve  the  seeming  absurdity. 

When  our  two  friends  met  the  next  morning  the  count 
(who,  though  he  did  not  agree  with  the  whole  of  his 
friend's  doctrine,  was,  however,  highly  pleased  with  his 
argument)  began  to  bewail  the  misfortune  of  his  captiv- 
ity, and  the  backwardness  of  friends  to  assist  each  other 
in  their  necessities ;  but  what  vexed  him,  he  said,  most, 
was  the  cruelty  of  the  fair ;  for  he  intrusted  Wild  with 
the  secret  of  his  having  had  an  intrigue  with  Miss  Theo- 
dosia,  the  elder  of  the  Miss  Snaps,  ever  since  his  confine- 
ment, though  he  could  not  prevail  with  her  to  set  him 
at  liberty.  Wild  answered,  with  a  smile,  "It  was  no 
wonder  a  woman  should  wish  to  confine  her  lover  where 


a 
u 


a 
£ 
H 


o 


JONATHAN  WILD.  21 

she  might  he  sure  of  having-  him  entirely  to  herself ;': 
but  added,  "  he  believed  he  could  tell  him  a  method  of  cer- 
tainly procuring"  his  escape."  The  count  eagerly  besought 
him  to  acquaint  him  with  it.  Wild  told  him  bribery  was 
the  surest  means,  and  advised  him  to  apply  to  the  maid. 
The  count  thanked  him,  but  returned,  "  That  he  had  not 
a  farthing  left  besides  one  guinea,  which  he  had  then 
given  her  to  change."  To  which  "Wild  said,  "He  must 
make  it  up  with  promises,  which  he  supposed  he  was 
courtier  enough  to  know  how  to  put  off."  The  count 
greatly  applauded  the  advice,  and  said  he  hoped  he  should 
be  able  in  time  to  persuade  him  to  condescend  to  be  a 
great  man,  for  which  he  was  so  perfectly  well  qualified. 

This  method  being  concluded  on,  the  two  friends  sat 
down  to  cards,  a  circumstance  which  I  should  not  have 
mentioned  but  for  the  sake  of  observing  the  prodigious 
force  of  habit ;  for  though  the  count  knew  if  he  won  ever 
so  much  of  Mr.  Wild  he  should  not  receive  a  shilling,  yet 
could  he  not  refrain  from  packing  the  cards ;  nor  could 
Wild  keep  his  hands  out  of  his  friend's  pockets,  though 
he  knew  there  was  nothing  in  them. 

When  the  maid  came  home  the  count  began  to  put  it 
to  her ;  offered  her  all  he  had,  and  promised  mountains 
in  futuro;  but  all  in  vain — the  maid's  honesty  was  im- 
pregnable. She  said,  "  She  would  not  break  her  trust 
for  the  whole  world ;  no,  not  if  she  could  gain  a  hundred 
pound  by  it."  Upon  which  Wild  stepping  up  and  telling 
her  "  She  need  not  fear  losing  her  place,  for  it  would 
never  be  found  out ;  that  they  could  throw  a  pair  of  sheets 
into  the  street,  by  which  it  might  appear  he  got  out  at  a 
window ;  that  he  himself  would  swear  he  saw  him  de- 
scending ;  that  the  money  would  be  so  much  gains  in  her 
pocket ;  that,  besides  his  promises,  which  she  might  de- 
pend upon  being  performed,  she  would  receive  from  him 
twenty  shillings  and  ninepence  in  ready  money  (for  she 
had  only  laid  out  threepence  in  plain  Spanish) ;  and  lastly, 
that,  besides  his  honor,  the  count  should  leave  a  pair  of 


22  JONATHAN  WILD. 

gold  buttons  (which  afterwards  turned  out  to  be  brass) 
of  great  value  in  her  hands,  as  a  further  pawn." 

The  maid  still  remained  inflexible,  till  Wild  offered  to 
lend  his  friend  a  guinea  more,  and  to  deposit  it  immedi- 
ately in  her  hands.  This  reinforcement  bore  down  the 
poor  girl's  resolution,  and  she  faithfully  promised  to  open 
the  door  to  the  count  that  evening. 

Thus  did  our  young  hero  not  only  lend  his  rhetoric, 
which  few  people  care  to  do  without  a  fee,  but  his  money 
too  (a  sum  which  many  a  good  man  would  have  made 
fifty  excuses  before  he  would  have  parted  with),  to  his 
friend,  and  procured  him  his  liberty. 

But  it  would  be  highly  derogatory  from  the  great 
character  of  Wild,  should  the  reader  imagine  he  lent  such 
a  sum  to  a  friend  without  the  least  view  of  serving  him- 
self. As,  therefore,  the  reader  may  account  for  it  in  a 
manner  more  advantageous  to  our  hero's  reputation,  by 
concluding  that  he  had  some  interested  view  in  the  count's 
enlargement,  we  hope  he  will  judge  with  charity,  es- 
pecially as  the  sequel  makes  it  not  only  reasonable  but 
necessary  to  suppose  he  had  some  such  view. 

A  long  intimacy  and  friendship  subsisted  between  the 
count  and  Mr.  Wild,  who,  being  by  the  advice  of  the 
count  dressed  in  good  clothes,  was  by  him  introduced 
into  the  best  company.  They  constantly  frequented  the 
assemblies,  auctions,  gaming-tables,  and  play-houses ;  at 
which  last  they  saw  two  acts  every  night,  and  then  re- 
tired without  paying — this  being,  it  seems,  an  immemo- 
rial privilege  which  the  beaux  of  the  town  prescribe  for 
to  themselves.  This,  however,  did  not  suit  Wild's  temper, 
who  called  it  a  cheat,  and  objected  against  it  as  requiring 
no  dexterity,  but  what  every  blockhead  might  put  in  ex- 
ecution. He  said  it  was  a  custom  very  much  savoring  of 
the  sneaking-budge  *,  but  neither  so  honorable  nor  so  in- 
genious. 

Wild  now  made  a  considerable  figure,  and  passed  for 

♦Shoplifting. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  23 

a  gentleman  of  great  fortune  in  the  funds.  Women  of 
quality  treated  him  with  great  familiarity,  young  ladies 
began  to  spread  their  charms  for  him,  when  an  accident 
happened  that  put  a  stop  to  his  continuance  in  a  way  of 
life  too  insipid  and  inactive  to  afford  employment  for 
those  great  talents  which  were  designed  to  make  a 
much  more  considerable  figure  in  the  world  than  attends 
the  character  of  a  beau  or  a  pretty  gentleman . 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Master  Wild  sets  oxd  on  his  travels,  and  returns  home  again.    A 
very  short  chapter,  containing  infinitely  more  time  and  less  mat 
ter  than  any  other  in  the  whole  story. 

We  are  sorry  we  cannot  indulge  our  reader's  curiosity 
with  a  full  and  perfect  account  of  this  accident ;  but  as 
there  are  such  various  accounts,  one  of  which  only  can  be 
true,  and  possibly  and  indeed  probably  none;  instead  of 
following  the  general  method  of  historians,  who  in  such 
cases  set  down  the  various  reports,  and  leave  to  your  own 
conjecture  which  you  will  choose,  we  shall  pass  them  all 
over. 

Certain  it  is  that,  whatever  this  accident  was,  it  deter- 
mined our  hero's  father  to  send  his  son  immediately 
abrcad  for  seven  years ;  and,  which  may  seem  somewhat 
remarkable,  to  his  majesty's  plantations  in  America — 
that  part  of  the  world  being,  as  he  said,  freer  from  vices 
than  the  courts  and  cities  of  Europe,  and  consequently 
less  dangerous  to  corrupt  a  young  man's  morals.  And 
as  for  the  advantages,  the  old  gentleman  thought  they 
were  equal  there  with  those  attained  in  the  politer 
climates;  for  traveling,  he  said,  was  traveling  in  one 
part  of  the  world  as  well  as  another ;  it  consisted  in  being 
such  a  time  from  home,  and  in  traversing  so  many 
leagues;  and  appealed  to  experience  whether  most  of  our 


24  JONATHAN  WILD. 

travelers  in  France  and  Italy  did  not  prove  at  their 
return  that  they  might  have  been  sent  as  profitably  to 
Norway  and  Greenland. 

According"  to  these  resolutions  of  his  father,  the  young* 
gentleman  went  aboard  a  ship,  and  with  a  great  deal  of 
good  company  set  out  for  the  American  hemisphere.  The 
exact  time  of  his  stay  is  somewhat  uncertain ;  most  prob- 
ably longer  than  was  intended.  But  howsoever  long 
his  abode  there  was,  it  must  be  a  blank  in  this  history,  as 
the  whole  story  contains  not  one  adventure  worthy  the 
reader's  notice ;  being  indeed  a  continued  scene  of  whor- 
ing, drinking,  and  removing  from  one  place  to  another. 

To  confess  a  truth,  we  are  so  ashamed  of  the  shortness 
of  this  chapter,  that  we  should  have  done  a  violence  to  our 
history,  and  have  inserted  an  adventure  or  two  of  some 
other  traveler ;  to  which  purpose  we  borrowed  the  jour- 
nals of  several  young  gentlemen  who  have  lately  made 
the  tour  of  Europe  ;  but  to  our  great  sorrow,  could  not 
extract  a  single  incident  strong  enough  to  justify  the 
theft  to  our  conscience. 

When  we  consider  the  ridiculous  figure  this  chapter 
must  make,  being  the  history  of  no  less  than  eight  years, 
our  only  comfort  is,  that  the  histories  of  some  men's  lives, 
and  perhaps  of  some  men  who  have  made  a  noise  in  the 
world,  are  in  reality  as  absolute  blanks  as  the  travels  of  our 
hero.  As,  therefore,  we  shall  make  sufficient  amends  in 
the  sequel  for  this  inanity,  we  shall  hasten  on  to  matters 
of  true  importance  and  immense  greatness.  At  present 
we  content  ourselves  with  setting  down  our  hero  where 
we  took  him  up,  after  acquainting  our  reader  that  he 
went  abroad,  stayed  seven  years,  and  then  came  home 
again. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  25 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

An  adventure  where  Wild,  in  the  division  of  the  booty,  exhibits  an 
astonishing  instance  of  greatness. 

The  count  was  one  night  very  successful  at  the  hazard- 
table,  where  Wild,  who  was  just  returned  from  his 
travels,  was  then  present ;  as  was  likewise  a  young  gen- 
tleman whose  name  was  Bob  Bagshot,  an  acquaintance 
of  Mr.  Wild's,  and  of  whom  he  entertained  a  great  opinion; 
taking,  therefore,  Mr.  Bagshot  aside,  he  advised  him  to 
prepare  himself  (if  he  had  not  them  about  him)  with  a 
pair  of  pistols,  and  to  attack  the  count  on  his  way  home, 
promising  to  plant  himself  near  with  the  same  arms,  as  a 
corps  de  reserve,  and  to  come  up  on  occasion.  This  was 
accordingly  executed,  and  the  count  obliged  to  surrender 
to  savage  force  what  he  had  in  so  genteel  and  civil  a 
manner  taken  at  play. 

And  as  it  is  a  wise  and  philosophical  observation,  that 
one  misfortune  never  comes  alone,  the  count  had  hardly 
passed  the  examination  of  Mr.  Bagshot  when  he  fell  into 
the  hands  of  Mr.  Snap,  who,  in  company  with  Mr.  Wild 
the  elder,  and  one  or  two  more  gentlemen,  being,  it  seems, 
thereto  well  warranted,  laid  hold  of  the  unfortunate  count, 
and  conveyed  him  back  to  the  same  house  from  which, 
by  the  assistance  of  his  good  friend,  he  had  formerly  es- 
caped. 

Mr.  Wild  and  Mr.  Bagshot  went  together  to  the  tavern, 
where  Mr.  Bagshot  (generously  as  he  thought)  offered  to 
share  the  booty,  and  having  divided  the  money  into  two 
unequal  heaps,  and  added  a  golden  snuff-box  to  the  lesser 
heap,  he  desired  Mr.  Wild  to  take  his  choice. 

Mr.  Wild  immediately  conveyed  the  larger  share  of  the 
ready  into  his  pocket,  according  to  an  excellent  maxim  of 
his,  "First  secure  what  share  you  can  before  you  wrangle 
for  the  rest;"    and  then,  turning  to  his  companion,  he 


26  JONATHAN    WILD. 

asked  with  a  stern  countenance  whether  he  intended  to 
keep  all  that  sum  to  himself?  Mr.  Bagshot  answered, 
with  some  surprise,  that  he  thought  Mr.  Wild  had  no 
reason  to  complain ;  for  it  was  surely  fair,  at  least  on  his 
part,  to  content  himself  with  an  equal  share  of  the  boot}', 
who  had  taken  the  whole.  "I  grant  you  took  it,"  re- 
plied Wild,  ''but,  pray,  who  proposed  or  counseled  the 
taking  it  ?  Can  you  say  that  you  have  done  more  than 
executed  my  scheme  ?  and  might  not  I,  if  I  had  pleased, 
have  employed  another,  since  you  well  know  there  was 
not  a  gentleman  in  the  room  but  would  have  taken  the 
money  if  he  had  known  how  conveniently  and  safely  to 
doit?" — "That  is  very  true,"  returned  Bagshot,  "but 
did  not  I  execute  the  scheme,  did  not  I  run  the  whole  risk  ? 
Should  not  I  have  suffered  the  whole  punishment  if  I  had 
been  taken,  and  is  not  the  laborer  worthy  of  his  hire?" — 
"  Doubtless,"  says  Jonathan,  "he  is  so,  and  your  hire  I 
shall  not  refuse  }tou,  which  is  all  that  the  laborer  is  en- 
titled to  or  ever  enjoys.  I  remember  when  I  was  at 
school  to  have  heard  some  verses  which  for  the  excellence 
of  their  doctrine  made  an  impression  on  me,  purporting 
that  the  birds  of  the  air  and  the  beasts  of  the  field  work 
not  for  themselves.  It  is  true,  the  farmer  allows  fodder 
to  his  oxen  and  pasture  to  his  sheep ;  but  it  is  for  his  own 
service,  not  theirs.  In  the  same  manner  the  ploughman, 
the  shepherd,  the  weaver,  the  builder,  and  the  soldier, 
work  not  for  themselves  but  others  ;  they  are  contented 
with  a  poor  pittance  (the  laborer's  hire),  and  permit  us, 
the  great,  to  enjoy  the  fruit  of  their  labors.  Aris- 
totle, as  my  master  told  us,  hath  plainly  proved,  in  the 
first  book  of  his  politics,  that  the  low,  mean,  useful  part 
of  mankind,  are  born  slaves  to  the  will  of  their  superiors, 
and  are  indeed  as  much  their  property  as  the  cattle.  It 
is  well  said  of  us,  the  higher  order  of  mortals,  that  we  are 
born  only  to  devour  the  fruits  of  the  earth,  and  it  may  be 
as  well  said  of  the  lower  class,  that  they  are  born  only  to 
produce  them  for  us.  Is  not  the  battle  gained  by  the  sweat 


JONATHAN  WILD.  2? 

and  danger  of  the  common  soldier  ?  Are  not  the  honor 
and  fruits  of  the  victory  the  general's  who  laid  the  scheme  ? 
Is  not  the  house  built  by  the  labor  of  the  carpenter  and 
the  bricklayer  ?  Is  it  not  built  for  the  profit  only  of  the 
architect  and  for  the  use  of  the  inhabitant,  who  could  not 
easily  have  placed  one  brick  upon  another  ?  Is  not  the 
cloth  or  the  silk  wrought  into  its  form  and  variegated 
with  all  the  beauty  of  colors  by  those  who  are  forced  to 
content  themselves  with  the  coarsest  and  vilest  part  of 
their  work,  while  the  profit  and  enjoyment  of  their  labors 
fall  to  the  share  of  others  ?  Cast  your  eye  abroad,  and 
see  who  is  it  lives  in  the  most  magnificent  buildings, 
feasts  his  palate  with  the  most  luxurious  dainties,  his 
eyes  with  the  most  beautiful  sculptures  and  delicate 
paintings,  and  clothes  himself  in  the  finest  and  richest 
apparel ;  and  tell  me  if  all  these  do  not  fall  to  his  lot  who 
had  not  any  the  least  share  in  producing  all  these  con- 
veniences, nor  the  least  ability  so  to  do  ?  Why  then 
should  the  state  of  a  prig*  differ  from  all  others  ?  Or 
why  should  you,  who  are  the  laborer  only,  the  executor 
of  my  scheme,  expect  a  share  in  the  profit  ?  Be  advised, 
therefore ;  deliver  the  whole  booty  to  me,  and  trust  to 
my  bounty  for  your  reward."  Mr.  Bagshot  was  some 
time  silent,  and  looked  like  a  man  thunderstruck,  but  at 
last,  recovering  himself  from  his  surprise,  he  thus  began : 
"If  you  think,  Mr.  Wild,  by  the  force  of  your  arguments, 
to  get  the  money  out  of  my  pocket,  you  are  greatly  mis- 
taken. What  is  all  this  stuff  to  me  ?  D — n  me,  I  am  a 
man  of  honor,  and,  though  I  can't  talk  as  well  as  you, 

by  G you  shall  not  make  a  fool  of  me  ;  and  if  you  take 

me  for  one,  I  must  tell  you  you  are  a  rascal.*  At  which 
words  he  laid  his  hand  to  his  pistol.  Wild,  perceiving 
the  little  success  the  great  strength  of  his  arguments  had 
met  with,  and  the  hasty  temper  of  his  friend,  gave- over 
his  design  for  the  present,  and  told  Bagshot  he  was  only 
in  jest.     But  this  coolness  with  which  he  treated  the 

*  A  thief. 


28  JONATHAN  WILD. 

other's  flame  had  rather  the  effect  of  oil  than  of  water. 
Bag-shot  replied  in  a  rage,  "D — n  me,  I  don't  like  such 
jests;  I  see  you  are  a  pitiful  rascal  and  a  scoundrel." 
Wild,  with  a  philosophy  worthy  of  great  admiration,  re- 
turned, "  As  for  your  abuse,  I  have  no  regard  to  it ;  hut, 
to  convince  you  I  am  not  afraid  of  you,  let  us  lay  the 
whole  booty  on  the  table,  and  let  the  conqueror  take  it 
all."  And  having  so  said,  he  drew  out  his  shining 
hanger,  whose  glittering  so  dazzled  the  e37es  of  Bagshot, 
that,  in  tone  entirely  altered,  he  said,  "No  !  he  was  con- 
tented with  what  he  had  already  ;  that  it  was  mighty 
ridiculous  in  them  to  quarrel  among  themselves ;  that 
they  had  common  enemies  enough  abroad,  against  whom 
they  should  unite  their  common  force ;  that  if  he  had  mis- 
taken Wild  he  was  sorry  for  it ;  and  as  for  a  jest,  he 
could  take  a  jest  as  well  as  another."  Wild,  who  had  a 
wonderful  knack  of  discovering  and  applying  to  the  pas- 
sions of  men,  beginning  now  to  have  a  little  insight  into 
his  friend,  and  to  conceive  what  arguments  would  make 
the  quickest  impression  on  him,  cried  out  in  a  loud  voice, 
"  That  he  had  bullied  him  into  drawing  his  hanger,  and, 
since  it  was  out,  he  would  not  put  it  up  without  satisfac- 
tion."— "  What  satisfaction  would  you  have  ?"  answered 
the  other. — "  Your  money  or  your  blood,"  said  Wild. — 
"Why,  look  ye,  Mr.  Wild,"  said  Bagshot,  "if  you  want 
to  borrow  a  little  of  my  part,  since  I  know  you  to  be  a 
man  of  honor,  I  don't  care  if  I  lend  you  ;  for,  though  I  am 
not  afraid  of  any  man  living,  yet  rather  than  break  with 
with  a  friend,  and  as  it  may  be  necessary  for  your  occa- 
sions  "     Wild,   who   often    declared  that  he  looked 

upon  borrowing  to  be  as  good  a  way  of  taking  as  any, 
and,  as  he  called  it,  the  genteelest  kind  of  sneaking-budge, 
putting  up  his  hanger,  and  shaking  his  friend  by  the  hand, 
told  him  he  had  hit  the  nail  on  the  head  ;  it  was  really 
his  present  necessity  only  that  prevailed  with  him  against 
his  will,  for  that  his  honor  was  concerned  to  pay  a  con- 
siderable sum  the  next  morning.     Upon  which,  contenting 


JONATHAN  WILD.  29 

himself  with  one  half  of  Bagshot's  share,  so  that  he  had 
three  parts  in  four  of  the  whole,  he  took  leave  of  his  com- 
panion and  retired  to  rest. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Wild  pays  a  visit  to  Miss  Lcetitia  Snap.  A  description  of  that 
lovely  young  creature,  and  the  successless  issue  of  Mr.  Wild's 
addresses. 

The  next  morning  when  our  hero  waked  he  began  to 
think  of  paying  a  visit  to  Miss  Tishy  Snap,  a  woman  of 
great  merit  and  of  as  great  generosity  ;  yet  Mr.  Wild 
found  a  present  was  ever  most  welcome  to  her,  as  being  a 
token  of  respect  in  her  lover.  He  therefore  went  directly 
to  a  toy-shop,  and  there  purchased  a  genteel  snuff-box, 
with  which  he  waited  upon  his  mistress,  whom  he  found 
in  the  most  beautiful  undress.  Her  lovely  hair  hung 
wantonl}r  over  her  forehead,  being  neither  white  with,  nor 
yet  free  from,  powder  ;  a  neat  double  clout,  which  seemed 
to  have  been  worn  a  few  weeks  only,  was  pinned  under 
her  chin ;  some  remains  of  that  art  with  which  ladies 
improve  nature  shone  on  her  cheeks ;  her  body  was 
loosely  attired,  without  stays  or  jumps,  so  that  her 
breasts  had  uncontrolled  liberty  to  display  their  beauteous 
orbs,  which  they  did  as  low  as  her  girdle  ;  a  thin  cover- 
ing of  a  rumpled  muslin  handkerchief  almost  hid  them 
from  the  eyes,  save  in  a  few  parts,  where  a  good-natured 
hole  gave  opportunity  to  the  naked  breast  to  appear. 
Her  gown  was  a  satin  of  a  whitish  color,  with  about  a 
dozen  little  silver  spots  upon  it,  so  artificially  interwoven 
at  great  distance,  that  they  looked  as  if  they  had  fallen 
there  by  chance.  This,  flying  open,  discovered  a  fine 
yellow  petticoat,  beautifully  edged  round  the  bottom  with 
a  narrow  piece  of  half  gold  lace,  which  was  now  almost 
become  fringe  ;  beneath  this  appeared  another  petticoat 


30  JONATHAN  WILD. 

stiffened  with  whalebone,  vulgarly  called  a  hoop,  which 
hung  six  inches  at  least  below  the  other  ;  and  under  this 
again  appeared  an  undergarment  of  that  color  which 
Ovid  intends  when  he  says, 

Qui  color  albus  erat  nunc  est  contrarius  albo. 

She  likewise  displayed  two  pretty  feet  covered  with  silk 
and  adorned  with  lace,  and  tied,  the  right  with  a  hand- 
some piece  of  blue  ribbon  ;  the  left,  as  more  unworthy, 
with  a  piece  of  yellow  stuff,  which  seemed  to  have  been 
a  strip  of  her  upper  petticoat.  Such  was  the  lovely 
creature  whom  Mr.  Wild  attended.  She  received  him  at 
first  with  some  of  that  coldness  which  women  of  strict 
virtue,  by  a  commendable  though  sometimes  painful 
restraint,  enjoin  themselves  to  their  lovers.  The  snuff- 
box, being  produced,  was  at  first  civilly,  and  indeed 
gently  refused  ;  but  on  a  second  application  accepted. 
The  tea-table  was  soon  called  for,  at  which  a  discourse 
passed  between  these  young  lovers,  which,  could  we 
set  it  down  with  any  accuracy,  would  be  very 
edifying  as  well  as  entertaining  to  our  reader ;  let  it 
suffice  then  that  the  wit,  together  with  the  beauty, 
of  this  young  creature  so  inflamed  the  passion  of 
Wild,  which,  though  an  honorable  sort  of  a  passion, 
was  at  the  same  time  so  extremely  violent,  that  it  trans- 
ported him  to  freedoms  too  offensive  to  the  nice  chastity 
of  Laetitia,  who  was,  to  confess  the  truth,  more  indebted 
to  her  own  strength  for  the  preservation  of  her  virtue 
than  to  the  awful  respect  or  backwardness  of  her  lover  ; 
he  was  indeed  so  very  urgent  in  his  addresses,  that,  had 
he  not  with  many  oaths  promised  her  marriage,  we  could 
scarce  have  been  strictly  justified  in  calling  his  passion 
honorable ;  but  he  was  so  remarkably  attached  to 
decency,  that  he  never  offered  any  violence  to  a  young 
lady  without  the  most  earnest  promises  of  that  kind,  these 
being,  he  said,  a  ceremonial  due  to  female  modesty,  which 
cost  so  little,  and  were  so  easily  pronounced,  that  the 
omission  could  arise  from  nothing  but  the  mere  wanton- 


JONATHAN  WILD.  31 

ness  of  brutality.  The  lovely  Lgetitia,  either  out  of  pru- 
dence, or  perhaps  religion,  of  which  she  was  a  liberal 
professor,  was  deaf  to  all  his  promises,  and  luckily  invinc- 
ible to  his  force  ;  for,  though  she  had  not  yet  learned 
the  art  of  well  clenching1  her  fist,  nature  had  not  however 
left  her  defenseless,  for  at  the  ends  of  her  fingers  she 
wore  arms,  which  she  used  with  such  admirable  dexterity, 
that  the  hot  blood  of  Mr.  Wild  soon  began  to  appear  in 
several  little  spots  on  his  face,  and  his  full-blown  cheeks 
to  resemble  that  part  which  modesty  forbids  a  boy  to 
turn  up  anywhere  but  in  a  public  school,  after  some 
pedagogue,  strong  of  arm,  hath  exercised  his  talents 
thereon.  Wild  now  retreated  from  the  conflict,  and  the 
victorious  Lastitia,  with  becoming  triumph  and  noble 
spirit  cried  out,  "  D — n  your  eyes,  if  this  be  your  way  of 
showing  your  love,  I'll  warrant  I  gives  you  enough  on't." 
She  then  proceeded  to  talk  of  her  virtue,  which  Wild  bid 
her  carry  to  the  devil  with  her,  and  thus  our  lovers 
parted. 


CHAPTER  X. 

A  discovery  of  some  matters  concerning  the  chaste  Lcetitia  which  must 
wonderfully  surprise,  and  perhaps  affect  our  reader. 

Mr.  Wild  was  no  sooner  departed  than  the  fair  con- 
queress,  opening  the  door  of  a  closet,  called  forth  a  young 
gentleman  whom  she  had  there  enclosed  at  the  approach 
of  the  other.  The  name  of  this  gallant  was  Tom  Smirko 
He  was  clerk  to  an  attorney,  and  was  indeed  the  greatest 
beau  and  the  greatest  favorite  of  the  ladies  at  the  end  of 
the  town  where  he  lived.  As  we  take  dress  to  be  the 
characteristic  or  efficient  quality  of  a  beau,  we  shall,  in- 
stead of  giving  any  character  of  this  young  gentleman, 
content  ourselves  with  describing  his  dress  only  to  our 
readers.     He  wore,  then,  a  pair  of  white  stockings  on  his 


32  JONATHAN  WILD. 

leg's,  and  pumps  on  his  feet ;  his  "buckles  were  a  large 
piece  of  pinchbeck  plate,  which  almost  covered  his  whole 
foot.  His  breeches  were  of  red  plush,  which  hardly- 
reached  his  knees;  his  waistcoat  was  a  white  dimity, 
richly  embroidered  with  yellow  silk,  over  which  he  wore 
a  blue  plush  coat  with  metal  buttons,  a  smart  sleeve,  with 
a  cape  reaching  half-way  down  his  hack.  His  wig  was 
of  a  brown  color,  covering  almost  half  his  pate,  on  which 
was  hung  on  one  side  a  little  laced  hat,  hut  cocked  with 
great  smartness.  Such  was  the  accomplished  Smirk, 
who,  at  his  issuing  forth  from  the  closet,  was  received 
with  open  arms  by  the  amiable  Lastitia.  She  addressed 
him  by  the  tender  name  of  dear  Tommy,  and  told  him  she 
had  dismissed  the  odious  creature  whom  her  father  in- 
tended for  her  husband,  and  had  now  nothing  to  inter- 
rupt her  happiness  with  him. 

Here,  reader,  thou  must  pardon  us  if  we  stop  a  while 
to  lament  the  capriciousness  of  Nature  in  forming  this 
charming  part  of  the  creation  designed  to  complete  the 
happiness  of  man  ;  with  their  soft  innocence  to  allay  his 
ferocity,  with  their  sprightliness  to  soothe  his  cares,  and 
with  their  constant  friendship  to  relieve  all  the  troubles 
and  disappointments  which  can  happen  to  him.  Seeing 
then  that  these  are  the  blessings  chiefly  sought  after  and 
generally  found  in  every  wife,  how  must  we  lament  that 
disposition  in  these  lovely  creatures  which  leads  them  to 
prefer  in  their  favor  those  individuals  of  the  other  sex 
who  do  not  seem  intended  by  nature  as  so  great  a  mas- 
terpiece !  For  surely,  however  useful  they  may  be  in  the 
creation,  as  we  are  taught  that  nothing,  not  even  a  louse, 
is  made  in  vain,  yet  these  beaux,  even  that  most  splendid 
and  honored  part  which  in  this  our  island  nature  loves  to 
distinguish  in  red,  are  not,  as  some  think,  the  noblest 
work  of  the  Creator.  For  my  own  part,  let  any  man 
choose  to  himself  two  beaux,  let  them  be  captains  or  colo- 
nels, as  well-dressed  men  as  ever  lived,  I  would  venture 
to  oppose  a  single  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  a  Shakespeare,  a  Mil- 


JONATHAN  WILD.  33 

ton,  or  perhaps  some  few  others,  to  both  these  beaux ; 
nay,  and  I  very  much  doubt  whether  it  had  not  been  bet- 
ter for  the  world  in  general  that  neither  of  these  beaux 
had  ever  been  born  than  that  it  should  have  wanted  the 
benefit  arising  to  it  from  the  labor  of  any  one  of  those 
persons. 

If  this  be  true,  how  melancholy  must  be  the  considera- 
tion that  any  single  beau,  especially  if  he  have  but  half  a 
yard  of  ribbon  in  his  hat,  shall  weigh  heavier  in  the  scale 
of  female  affection  than  twenty  Sir  Isaac  Newtons  !  How 
must  our  reader,  who  perhaps  has  wisely  accounted  for 
the  resistance  which  the  chaste  Lsetitia  had  made  to  the 
violent  addresses  of  the  ravished  (or  rather  ravishing) 
Wild  from  that  lady's  impregnable  virtue — how  must  he 
blush,  I  say,  to  perceive  her  quit  the  strictness  of  her  car- 
riage, and  abandon  herself  to  those  loose  freedoms  which 
she  indulged  to  Smirk  !  But  alas  !  when  we  discover  all, 
as  to  preserve  the  fidelity  of  our  history  we  must,  when 
we  relate  that  every  familiarity  had  passed  between 
them,  and  that  the  fair  Lastitia  (for  we  must,  in  this  sin- 
gle instance,  imitate  Virgil  when  he  drops  the  pius  and 
the  pater,  and  drop  our  favorite  epithet  of  chaste),  the 
pair  Leetitia  had,  I  say,  made  Smirk  as  happy  as  Wild 
desired  to  be,  what  must  then  be  our  reader's  confusion  ! 
We  will,  therefore,  draw  a  curtain  over  this  scene,  from 
that  philogyny  which  is  in  us,  and  proceed  to  matters 
which,  instead  of  dishonoring  the  human  species,  will 
greatly  raise  and  ennoble  it. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Containing  as  notable  instances  of  huma?i  greatness  as  are  to  be 
met  with  in  ancient  or  modern  history.  Concluding  with  some 
wholesome  hints  to  the  gay  part  of  mankind. 

Wild  no  sooner  parted  from  the  chaste  Leetitia  than, 
recollecting  that  his  friend  the  count  was  returned  to  his 
lodgings  in  the  same  house,  he  resolved  to  visit  him  ;  for 


34  JONATHAN  WILD. 

he  was  none  of  those  half-bred  fellows  who  are  ashamed 
to  see  their  friends  when  they  have  plundered  and 
betrayed  them ;  from  which  base  and  pitiful  temper 
many  monstrous  cruelties  have  been  transacted  by  men, 
who  have  sometimes  carried  their  modesty  so  far  as  to  the 
murder  or  utter  ruin  of  those  against  whom  their  con- 
sciences have  suggested  to  them  that  t\iey  have  com- 
mitted some  small  trespass,  either  by  the  debauching  of  a 
friend's  wife  or  daughter,  belying  or  betraying  the  friend 
himself,  or  some  other  such  trifling  instance.  In  our  hero 
there  was  nothing  not  truly  great ;  he  could,  without  the 
least  abashment,  drink  a  bottle  with  the  man  who  knew 
he  had  the  moment  before  picked  his  pocket ;  and,  when 
he  had  stripped  him  of  everything  he  had,  never  desired 
to  do  him  any  further  mischief ;  for  he  carried  good- 
nature to  that  wonderful  and  uncommon  height  that  he 
never  did  a  single  injury  to  man  or  woman  by  which  he 
himself  did  not  expect  to  reap  some  advantage.  He 
would  often  indeed  say  that  by  the  contrary  party  men 
often  made  a  bad  bargain  with  the  devil,  and  did  his  work 
for  nothing. 

Our  hero  found  the  captive  count,  not  basely  lamenting 
his  fate  nor  abandoning  himself  to  despair,  but,  with  due 
resignation,  employing  himself  in  preparing  several  packs 
of  cards  for  future  exploits.  The  count,  little  suspecting 
that  Wild  had  been  the  sole  contriver  of  the  misfortune 
which  had  befallen  him,  rose  up  and  eagerly  embraced 
him  ;  and  Wild  returned  his  embrace  with  equal  warmth. 
They  were  no  sooner  seated  than  Wild  took  an  occasion, 
from  seeing  the  cards  lying  on  the  table,  to  inveigh 
against  gaming,  and,  with  an  usual  and  highly  commend- 
able freedom,  after  first  exaggerating  the  distressed  cir- 
cumstances in  which  the  count  was  then  involved,  im- 
puted all  his  misfortunes  to  that  cursed  itch  of  play 
which,  he  said,  he  concluded  had  brought  his  present 
confinement  upon  him,  and  must  unavoidably  end  in  his 
destruction.     The  other,  with  great  alacrity,   defended 


JONATHAN  WILD.  35 

his  favorite  amusement  (or  rather  employment),  and, 
having  told  his  friend  the  great  success  he  had  after  his 
unluckily  quitting-  the  room,  acquainted  him  with  the  acci- 
dent which  followed,  and  which  the  reader,  as  well  as 
Mr.  Wild,  hath  had  some  intimation  of  before;  adding, 
however,  one  circumstance  not  hitherto  mentioned,  viz.: 
that  he  had  defended  his  money  with  the  utmost  bra  very, 
and  had  dangerously  wounded  at  least  two  of  the  three 
men  that  had  attacked  him.  This  behavior  Wild,  who 
not  only  knew  the  extreme  readiness  with  which  the 
booty  had  been  delivered,  but  also  the  constant  frigidity 
of  the  count's  courage,  highly  applauded,  and  wished  he 
had  been  present  to  assist  him.  The  count  then  pro 
ceeded  to  animadvert  on  the  carelessness  of  the  watch, 
and  the  scandal  it  was  to  the  laws  that  honest  people 
could  not  walk  the  streets  in  safety  ;  and,  after  expatiat- 
ing some  time  on  that  subject,  he  asked  Mr.  Wild  if  he 
ever  saw  so  prodigious  a  run  of  luck  (for  so  he  chose  to 
call  his  winning,  though  he  knew  Wild  was  well 
acquainted  with  his  having  loaded  dice  in  his  pocket). 
The  other  answered  it  was  indeed  prodigious,  and  almost 
sufficient  to  justify  any  person  who  did  not  know  him 
better  in  suspecting  his  fair  play.  "  No  man,  I  believe, 
dares  call  that  in  question,"  replied  he.  "No,  surely," 
says  Wild  ;  "  you  are  well  known  to  be  a  man  of  more 
honor ;  but  pray  sir,"  continued  he,  "  did  the  rascals  rob 
you  of  all?"  "  Every  shilling,"  cries  the  other,  with  an 
oath ;   "  they  did  not  leave  me  a  single  stake." 

While  they  were  thus  discoursing,  Mr.  Snap,  with  a 
gentleman  who  followed  him,  introduced  Mr.  Bagshot 
into  the  company.  It  seems  Mr.  Bagshot,  immediately 
after  his  separation  from  Mr.  Wild,  returned  to  the  gam- 
ing-table, where,  having  trusted  to  fortune  that  treasure 
which  he  had  procured  by  his  industry,  the  faithless  god- 
dess committed  a  breach  of  trust,  and  sent  Mr.  Bagshot 
away  with  as  empty  pockets  as  are  to  be  found  in  any 
laced  coat  in  the  kingdom.     Now,  as  that  gentleman  was 


36  JONATHAN  WILD. 

walking  to  a  certain  reputable  house  or  shed  in  Covent- 
garden  market  he  fortuned  to  meet  with  Mr  Snap,  who 
had  just  returned  from  conveying  the  count  to  his  lodg- 
ings, and  was  then  walking  to  and  fro  before  the  gaming- 
house door ;  for  you  are  to  know,  my  good  reader,  if  you 
have  never  been  a  man  of  wit  and  pleasure  about  town, 
that  as  the  voracious  pike  lieth  snug  under  some  weed 
before  the  mouth  of  any  of  those  little  streams  which  dis- 
charge themselves  into  a  large  river,  waiting  for  the 
small  fry  which  issue  thereout,  so  hourly,  before  the  door 
or  mouth  of  these  gaming-houses,  doth  Mr.  Snap,  or  some 
other  gentleman  of  his  occupation,  attend  the  issuing 
forth  of  the  small  fry  of  young  gentlemen,  to  whom  they 
deliver  little  slips  of  parchment,  containing  invitations  of 
the  said  gentlemen  to  their  houses,  together  with  one  Mr. 
John  Doe,*  a  person  whose  company  is  in  great  request. 
Mr.  Snap,  among  many  others  of  these  billets  happened 
to  have  one  directed  to  Mr.  Bagshot,  being  at  the  suit  or 
solicitation  of  one  Mrs.  Anne  Sample,  spinster,  at  whose 
house  the  said  Bagshot  had  lodged  several  months,  and 
whence  he  had  inadvertently  departed  without  taking  a 
formal  leave,  on  which  account  Mrs.  Anne  had  taken  this 
method  of  speaking  with  him 

Mr.  Snap's  house  being  now  very  full  of  good  company, 
he  was  obliged  to  introduce  Mr.  Bagshot  into  the  count's 
apartment,  it  being,  as  he  said,  the  only  chamber  he  had 
to  lock  up  in.  Mr.  Wild  no  sooner  saw  his  friend  than  he 
ran  eagerly  to  embrace  him,  and  immediately  presented 
him  to  the  count,  who  received  him  with  great  civility. 

*  This  is  a  fictitious  name  which  is  put  into  every  writ;  for  what  purpose  the 
lawyers  best  know. 


JONATHAN   WILD.  3? 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Further  particulars  relating  to  Miss  Tishy,  which  perhaps  may  not 
greatly  surprise  after  the  former.  The  description  of  a  very 
fine  gentleman,  and  a  dialogue  between  Wild  and  the  count,  in 
which  public  virtue  is  just  hinted  at,  with,  etc. 

Mr.  Snap  had  turned  the  key  a  very  few  minutes  before 
a  servant  of  the  family  called  Mr.  Bag-shot  out  of  the 
room,  telling  him  there  was  a  person  below  who  desired 
to  speak  with  him  ;  and  this  was  no  other  than  Miss 
Laetitia  Snap,  whose  admirer  Mr.  Bagshot  had  long  been, 
and  in  whose  tender  breast  his  passion  had  raised  a  more 
ardent  flame  than  that  which  any  of  his  rivals  had  been 
able  to  raise.  Indeed,  she  was  so  extremely  fond  of  this 
youth  that  she  often  confessed  to  her  female  confidants,  if 
she  could  ever  have  listened  to  the  thought  of  living  with 
any  one  man,  Mr.  Bagshot  was  he.  Nor  was  she  singu- 
lar in  this  inclination,  many  other  young  ladies  being  her 
rivals  in  this  lover,  who  had  all  the  great  and  noble  quali- 
fications necessary  to  form  a  true  gallant,  and  which  na- 
ture is  seldom  so  extremely  bountiful  as  to  indulge  to  any 
one  person.  We  will  endeavor,  however,  to  describe 
them  all  with  as  much  exactness  as  possible.  He  was  then 
six  feet  high,  had  large  calves,  broad  shoulders,  a  ruddy 
complexion,  with  brown  curled  hair,  a  modest  assurance, 
and  clean  linen.  He  had  indeed,  it  must  be  confessed, 
some  small  deficiencies  to  counterbalance  these  heroic 
qualities,  for  he  was  the  silliest  fellow  in  the  world,  could 
neither  write  nor  read,  nor  had  he  a  single  grain  or  spark 
of  honor,  honesty,  or  good-nature  in  his  whole  composi- 
tion. 

As  soon  as  Mr.  Bagshot  had  quitted  the  room,  the 
count,  taking  Wild  by  the  hand,  told  him  he  nad  some- 
thing to  communicate  to  him  of  very  great  importance. 


38  JONATHAN  WILD. 

"I  am  very  well  convinced,"  said  he,  "that  Bagshot  is 
the  person  who  robbed  me."  Wild  started  with  great 
amazement  at  this  discovery,  and  answered,  with  a  most 
serions  countenance,  "  I  advise  yon  to  take  care  how  you 
cast  any  such  reflections  on  a  man  of  Mr.  Bagshot's  nice 
honor,  for  I  am  certain  he  will  not  bear  it."  "  D — n  his 
honor  ! "  quoth  the  enraged  count ;  "  nor  can  I  bear  being 
robbed  ;  I  will  apply  to  a  justice  of  peace."  Wild  replied 
with  great  indignation,  "  Since  you  dare  entertain  such 
a  suspicion  against  my  friend  I  will  henceforth  disclaim 
all  acquaintance  with  you.  Mr.  Bagshot  is  a  man  of 
honor  and  my  friend,  and  consequently  it  is  impossible  he 
should  be  guilty  of  a  bad  action."  He  added  much  more 
to  the  same  purpose,  which  had  not  the  expected  weight 
with  the  count ;  for  the  latter  seemed  still  certain  as  to 
the  person,  and  resolute  in  applying  for  justice,  which,  he 
said,  he  thought  he  owed  to  the  public  as  well  as  to  him- 
self. Wild  then  changed  his  countenance  into  a  kind  of 
derision,  and  spoke  as  follows :  ' '  Suppose  it  should  be  pos- 
sible that  Mr.  Bagshot  had,  in  a  frolic  (for  I  will  call  it 
no  other),  taken  this  method  of  borrowing  your  money, 
what  will  you  get  by  prosecuting  him  ?  Not  your  money 
again,  for  you  hear  he  was  stripped  at  the  gaming- 
table "  (of  which  Bagshot  had  during  their  short  confab- 
ulation informed  them) ;  you  will  get  then  an  opportunity 
of  being  still  more  out  of  pocket  by  the  prosecution.  An- 
other advantage  you  may  promise  yourself  is  the  being 
blown  up  at  every  gaming-house  in  town,  for  that  I  will 
assure  you  of;  and  then  much  good  may  it  do  you  to  sit 
down  with  the  satisfaction  of  having  discharged  what  it 
seems  you  owe  the  public.  I  am  ashamed  of  my  own  dis- 
cernment when  I  mistook  you  for  a  great  man.  Would 
it  not  be  better  for  you  to  receive  part  (perhaps  all)  of 
your  money  again  by  a  wise  concealment?  for,  however 
seedy*  Mr.  Bagshot  may  be  now,  if  he  hath  really  played 
this  frolic  with  you,  you  may  believe  he  will  play  it  with 

*  Poor. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  39 

others,  and  when  he  is  in  cash  you  may  depend  on  a 
restoration;  the  law  will  be  always  in  yonr  power,  and 
that  is  the  last  remedy  which  a  brave  or  a  wise  man 
would  resort  to.  Leave  the  affair  therefore  to  me ;  I  will 
examine  Bagshot,  and,  if  I  find  he  hath  played  you  this 
trick,  I  will  engage  my  own  honor  you  shall  in  the  end 
be  no  loser."  The  count  answered,  "  If  I  was  sure  to  be 
no  loser,  Mr.  Wild,  I  apprehend  you  have  a  better  opin- 
ion of  my  understanding  than  to  imagine  I  would  prose- 
cute a  gentleman  for  the  sake  of  the  public.  These  are 
foolish  words,  of  course,  which  we  learn  a  ridiculous 
habit  of  speaking,  and  will  often  break  from  us  without 
any  design  or  meaning.  I  assure  you,  all  I  desire  is  a 
reimbursement ;  and  if  I  can  by  your  means  obtain  that, 

the   public   may  ;  "  concluding  with   a  phrase   too 

coarse  to  be  inserted  in  a  history  of  this  kind. 

They  were  now  informed  that  dinner  was  ready,  and 
the  company  assembled  below  stairs,  whither  the  reader 
may,  if  he  please,  attend  these  gentlemen. 

There  sat  down  at  the  table  Mr.  Snap  and  the  two  Miss 
Snaps,  his  daughters,  Mr.  Wild  the  elder,  Mr.  Wild  the 
younger,  the  count,  Mr=  Bagshot,  and  a  grave  gentleman 
who  had  formerly  had  the  honor  of  carrying  arms  in  a 
regiment  of  foot,  and  who  was  now  engaged  in  the 
office  (perhaps  a  more  profitable  one)  of  assisting  or  fol- 
lowing Mr.  Snap  in  the  execution  of  the  laws  of  his  coun- 
try. 

Nothing  very  remarkable  passed  at  dinner.  The  con- 
versation (as  is  usual  in  polite  company)  rolled  chiefly  on 
what  they  were  then  eating  and  what  they  had  lately 
eaten.  In  this  the  military  gentleman,  who  had  served 
in  Ireland,  gave  them  a  very  particular  account  of  a  new 
manner  of  roasting  potatoes,  and  others  gave  an  account 
of  other  dishes.  In  short,  an  indifferent  bystander  would 
have  concluded  from  their  discourse  that  they  had  all 
come  into  this  world  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  fill  their 
bellies;  and  indeed,  if  this  was  not  the  chief,  it  is  probable 


40  JONATHAN  WILD. 

it  was  the  most  innocent  design  Nature  had  in  their 
formation. 

As  soon  as  the  dish  was  removed,  and  the  ladies  re- 
tired, the  count  proposed  a  game  at  hazard,  which  was 
immediately  assented  to  by  the  whole  company,  and,  the 
dice  being  immediately  brought  in,  the  count  took  up  the 
box  and  demanded  who  would  set  him  ;  to  which  no  one 
made  any  answer,  imagining  perhaps  the  count's  pockets 
to  be  more  empty  than  they  were ;  for,  in  reality,  that 
gentleman  (notwithstanding  what  he  had  heartily  swore 
to  Mr.  Wild)  had,  since  his  arrival  at  Mr.  Snap's,  con- 
veyed a  piece  of  plate  to  pawn,  by  which  means  he  had 
furnished  himself  with  ten  guineas.  The  count,  there- 
fore,perceiving  this  backwardness  in  his  friends,  and  prob- 
ably somewhat  guessing  at  the  cause  of  it,  took  the  said 
guineas  out  of  his  pocket,  and  threw  them  on  the  table ; 
when  lo  !  (such  is  the  force  of  example)  all  the  rest  began 
to  produce  their  funds,  and  immediately,  a  considerable 
sum  glittering  in  their  eyes,  the  game  began. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

A  chapter  of  which  we  are  extremely  vain,  and  which  indeed  we  look 
on  as  our  chef-d'oeuvre ;  containing  a  wonderful  story  concerning 
the  devil,  and  as  nice  a  scene  of  honor  as  ever  happened. 

My  reader,  I  believe,  even  if  he  be  a  gamester,  would  not 
thank  me  for  an  exact  relation  of  every  man's  success ; 
let  it  suffice  then  that  they  played  till  the  whole  money 
vanished  from  the  table.  Whether  the  devil  himself  car- 
ried it  away,  as  some  suspected,  I  will  not  determine ;  but 
very  surprising  it  was  that  every  person  protested  he  had 
lost,  nor  could  anyone  guess  who,  unless  the  devil,  had 
won. 

But  though  very  probable  it  is  that  this  arch  fiend  had 
some  share  in  the  booty,  it  is  likely  he  had  not  all;  Mr. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  41 

Bagshot  being  imagined  to  be  a  considerable  winner,  not- 
withstanding his  assertions  to  the  contrary ;  for  he  was 
seen  by  several  to  convey  money  often  into  his  pocket ; 
and  what  is  still  a  little  stronger  presumption  is,  that  the 
grave  gentleman  whom  we  have  mentioned  to  have  served 
his  country  in  two  honorable  capacities,  not  being  willing 
to  trust  alone  to  the  evidence  of  his  eyes,  had  frequently 
dived  into  the  said  Bagshot's  pocket,  whence  (as  he  tells 
us  in  the  apology  for  his  life,  afterwards  published  )* 
though  he  might  extract  a  few  pieces,  he  was  very  sensi- 
ble he  had  left  many  behind.  The  gentleman  had  long 
indulged  his  curiosity  in  this  way  before  Mr.  Bagshot,  in 
the  heat  of  gaming,  had  perceived  him  ;  but,  as  Bagshot 
was  now  leaving  off  play,  he  discovered  this  ingenious 
feat  of  dexterit\T ;  upon  which,  leaping  up  from  his  chair 
in  violent  passion,  he  cried  out,  "  I  thought  I  had  been 
among  gentlemen  and  men  of  honor,  but  d — n  me,  I  find 
we  have  a  pickpocket  in  company."  The  scandalous 
sound  of  this  word  extremely  alarmed  the  whole  board, 

nor  did  they  all  show  less  surprise  than  the   Con n 

(whose  not  sitting  of  late  is  much  lamented)  would  ex- 
press at  hearing  there  was  an  atheist  in  the  room ;  but  it 
more  particularly  affected  the  gentleman  at  whom  it  was 
levelled,  though  it  was  not  addressed  to  him.  He  like- 
wise started  from  his  chair,  and,  with  a  fierce  countenance 
and  accent,  said,  "  Do  you  mean  me  ?  D — n  your  eyes, 
you  are  a  rascal  and  a  scoundrel !  "  Those  words  would 
have  been  immediately  succeeded  by  blows  had  not  the 
company  interposed,  and  with  strong  arm  withheld  the 
two  antagonists  from  each  other.  It  was,  however,  a 
long  time  before  they  could  be  prevailed  on  to  sit  down ; 
which  being  at  last  happily  brought  about,  Mr.  Wild,  the 
elder,  who  was  a  well-disposed  old  man,  advised  them  to 
shake  hands  and  be  friends  ;  but  the  gentleman  who  had 

*  Not  in  a  book  by  itself,  in  imitation  of  some  other  such  persons,  but  in  the  or- 
dinary's account,  etc.,  where  all  the  apologies  for  the  lives  of  rogues  and  whores 
which  have  been  published  within  these  twenty  years  should  have  been  inserted. 


42  JONATHAN  WILD. 

received  the  first  affront  absolutely  refused  it,  and  swore 
he  would  have  the  villain's  blood.  Mr.  Snap  highly  ap- 
plauded the  resolution,  and  affirmed  that  the  affront  was 
by  no  means  to  be  put  up  by  any  who  bore  the  name  of  a 
gentleman,  and  that  unless  his  friend  resented  it  properly 
he  would  never  execute  another  warrant  in  his  company  ; 
that  he  had  always  looked  upon  him  as  a  man  of  honor, 
and  doubted  not  but  he  would  prove  himself  so  ;  and  that, 
if  it  was  his  own  case,  nothing  should  persuade  him  to 
put  up  such  an  affront  without  proper  satisfaction.  The 
count  likewise  spoke  on  the  same  side,  and  the  parties 
themselves  muttered  several  short  sentences  purporting 
their  intentions.  At  last  Mr.  Wild,  our  hero,  rising  slow- 
ly from  his  seat,  and  having  fixed  the  attention  of  all 
present,  began«as  follows :  "  I  have  heard  with  infinite 
pleasure  everything  which  the  two  gentlemen  who  spoke 
last  have  said  with  relation  to  honor,  nor  can  any  man 
possibly  entertain  a  higher  and  nobler  sense  of  that  word, 
nor  a  greater  esteem  of  its  inestimable  value  than  myself. 
If  we  have  no  name  to  express  it  by  in  our  Cant  Diction 
ary,  it  were  well  to  be  wished  we  had.  It  is  indeed  the 
essential  qualit}'  of  a  gentleman,  and  which  no  man  who 
ever  was  great  in  the  field  or  on  the  road  (as  others  ex- 
press it)  can  possibly  be  without.  But  alas  !  gentlemen, 
what  pity  is  it  that  a  word  of  such  sovereign  use  and  vir- 
tue should  have  so  uncertain  and  various  an  application 
that  scarce  two  people  mean  the  same  thing  by  it.  Do 
not  some  by  honor  mean  good-nature  and  humanity, 
which  weak  minds  call  virtues  ?  How  then  !  Must  we 
deny  it  to  the  great,  the  brave,  the  noble ;  to  the  sackers 
of  towns,  the  plunderers  of  provinces,  and  the  conquerors 
of  kingdoms?  Were  not  these  men  of  honor?  and  vet 
they  scorn  those  pitiful  qualities  I  have  mentioned.  Again , 
some  few  (or  I  mistake)  include  the  idea  of  honesty  in 
their  honor.  And  shall  we  then  say  that  no  man  who 
withholds  from  another  what  law,  or  justice  perhaps, 
calls  his  own,  or  who  greatly  and  boldly  deprives  him  of 


c 


o 

5 
a 


is 


« 

a 


o 


JONATHAN   WILD.  43 

such  property,  is  a  man  of  honor  ?  Heaven  forbid  I  should 
say  so  in  this,  or,  indeed,  in  any  other  good  company  !  Is 
honor  truth  ?  No  ;  it  is  not  in  the  lies  going  from  us,  but 
in  its  coming  to  us,  our  honor  is  injured.  Doth  it  then 
consist  in  what  the  vulgar  call  cardinal  virtues  ?  It  would 
be  an  affront  to  your  understandings  to  suppose  it,  since 
we  see  every  day  so  manjr  men  of  honor  without  any.  In 
what  then  doth  the  word  honor  consist  ?  Why,  in  itself 
alone.  A  man  of  honor  is  he  that  is  called  a  man  of 
honer ;  and  while  he  is  so  called  he  so  remains,  and  no 
longer.  Think  not  anything  a  man  commits  can  forfeit 
his  honor.  Look  abroad  into  the  world  ;  the  prig,  while 
he  flourishes,  is  a  man  of  honor  ;  when  in  jail,  at  the  bar, 
or  the  tree,  he  is  so  no  longer.  And  why  is  this  distinc- 
tion ?  Not  from  his  actions  ;  for  those  are  often  as  well 
known  in  his  flourishing  estate  as  they  are  afterwards  ; 
but  because  men,  I  mean  those  of  his  own  party  or  gang, 
call  him  a  man  of  honor  in  the  former,  and  cease  to  call 
him  so  in  the  latter  condition.  Let  us  see  then;  how  hath 
Mr.  Bagshot  injured  the  gentleman's  honor?  Why,  he 
hath  called  him  a  pickpocket ;  and  that,  probably,  by  a 
severe  construction  and  a  long  roundabout  way  of  reason- 
ing, may  seem  a  little  to  derogate  from  his  honor,  if  con- 
sidered in  a  very  nice  sense.  Admitting  it,  therefore,  for 
argument's  sake,  to  be  some  small  imputation  on  his  hon- 
or, let  Mr.  Bagshot  give  him  satisfaction ;  let  him  doubly 
and  triply  repair  this  oblique  injury  by  directly  asserting 
that  he  believes  he  is  a  man  of  honor."  The  gentleman 
answered  he  was  content  to  refer  it  to  Mr.  Wild,  and 
whatever  satisfaction  he  thought  sufficient  he  would  ac- 
cept. "  Let  him  give  me  my  money  again  first,"  said 
Bagshot,  "  and  then  I  will  call  him  a  man  of  honor  with 
all  my  heart."  The  gentleman  then  protested  he  had  not 
an}-,  which  Snap  seconded,  declaring  he  had  his  eyes  on 
him  all  the  while;  but  Bagshot  remained  still  unsatisfied, 
till  Wild,  rapping  out  a  hearty  oath,  swore  he  had  not 
taken  a  single  farthing,  adding  that  whoever  asserted  the 


44  JONATHAN  WILD. 

contrary  gave  him  the  lie,  and  he  would  resent  it. 
And  now,  such  was  the  ascendancy  of  this  great  man, 
that  Bagshot  immediately  acquiesced,  and  performed  the 
ceremonies  required  ;  and  thus,  by  the  exquisite  address 
of  our  hero,  this  quarrel,  which  had  so  fatal  an  aspect, 
and  which  between  two  persons  so  extremely  jealous  oi 
their  honor  would  most  certainly  have  produced  very 
dreadful  consequences,  was  happily  concluded. 

Mr.  Wild  was  indeed  a  little  interested  in  this  affair,  as 
he  himself  had  set  the  gentleman  to  work,  and  had 
received  the  greatest  part  of  the  booty;  and  as  to  Mr- 
Snap's  deposition  in  his  favor,  it  was  the  usual  height  to 
which  the  ardor  of  that  worthy  person's  friendship  too 
frequently  hurried  him.  It  was  his  constant  maxim  that 
he  was  a  pitiful  fellow  who  would  stick  at  a  little  rapping* 
for  his  friend. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

In  which  the  history  of  greatness  is  continued. 

Matters  being  thus  reconciled,  and  the  gaming  over, 
from  reasons  before  hinted,  the  company  proceeded  to 
drink  about  with  the  utmost  cheerfulness  and  friendship; 
drinking  healths,  shaking  hands,  and  professing  the  most 
perfect  affection  for  each  other.  All  which  were  not  in 
the  least  interrupted  by  some  designs  which  they  then 
agitated  in  their  minds,  and  which  they  intended  to  exe- 
cute as  soon  as  the  liquor  had  prevailed  over  some  of  their 
understandings,  Bagshot  and  the  gentlemen  intending  to 
rob  each  other ;  Mr.  Snap  and  Mr.  Wild  the  elder  medi- 
tating what  other  creditors  they  could  find  out  to  charge 
the  gentlemen  then  in  custody  with  ;  the  count  hoping  to 
renew  the  play,  and  Wild,  our  hero,  laying  a  design  to 
put  Bagshot  out  of  the  way,  or,  as  the  vulgar  express  it, 

^Rapping  is  a  cant  word  for  perjury. 


JONATHAN   WILD.  45 

to  hang-  him  with  the  first    opportunity.     But  none  of 
these  great  designs  could  at  present  be  put  in  execution, 
for  Mr.  Snap  being  soon  after  summoned  abroad  on  busi- 
ness of  great  moment,  which  required  likewise  the  assist- 
ance of  Mr.  Wild  the  elder  and  his  other  friend,  and  as  he 
did  not  care  to  trust  to  the  nimbleness  of  the  count's 
heels,  of  which  he  had  already  had  some  experience,  he 
declared  he  must  lock  up  for  that  evening.     Here,  reader, 
if  thou  pleasest,  as  we  are  in  no  great  haste,  we  will  stop 
and  make  a  simile.     As   when   their  lap  is  finished,  the 
cautious  huntsman  to  their   kennel  gathers   the  nimble- 
footed  hounds,  they  with  lank  ears  and   tails  slouch  sul- 
lenly on,  whilst  he,  with  his  whippers-in,  follow  close  to 
their  heels,  regardless  of  their  dogged  humor,  till,  having 
seen  them  safe  within  the  door,  he  turns  the  key,  and 
then  retires  to  whatever  business  or  pleasure  calls  him 
thence;  so  with  lowering  countenance  and  reluctant  steps 
mounted  the  count  and   Bagshot  to  their  chamber,  or 
rather  kennel,  whither  they  were  attended  by  Snap  and 
those  who  followed  him,  and  where  Snap,  having  seen 
them  deposited,  very  contentedly    locked  the  door  and 
departed.     And  now,  reader,  we  will,  in  imitation  of  the 
truly  laudable  custom  of  the  world,  leave  these  our  good 
friends  to  deliver  themselves  as  they  can,  and  pursue  the 
thriving  fortunes  of  Wild,  our  hero,  who,  with  that  great 
aversion  to  satisfaction  and  content  which  is  inseparably 
incident  to  great  minds,  began  to  enlarge  his  views  with 
his  prosperity ;  for  this  restless,  amiable  disposition,  this 
noble  avidity  which  increases  with  feeding,  is  the  first 
principle  or  constituent  quality  of  these  our  great  men ;  to 
whom,  in  their  passage  on  to  greatness,  it  happens  as  to  a 
traveler  over  the  Alps,  or,  if  this  be  a  too  far-fetched  simile, 
to  one  who  travels  westward  over  the  hills  near  Bath,  where 
the  simile  was  indeed  made.     He  sees  not  the  end  of  his 
journey  at  once ;  but,  passing  on  from  scheme  to  scheme, 
and  from  hill  to  hill,  with  noble  constancy,  resolving  still 
to  attain  the  summit  on  which  he  hath  fixed  his  eye,  how- 


40  JONATHAN  WILD. 

ever  dirty  the  roads  may  be  through  which  he  struggles, 

he  at  length  arrives at  some  vile  inn,  where  he  finds  no 

kind  of  entertainment  nor  conveniency  for  repose.  I 
fancy,  reader,  if  thou  hast  ever  traveled  in  these  roads, 
one  part  of  my  simile  is  sufficiently  apparent  (and,  indeed, 
in  all  these  illustrations,  ore  side  is  generally  much  more 
apparent  than  the  other);  but,  believe  me,  if  the  other 
doth  not  so  evidently  appear  to  th}7  satisfaction,  it  is  from 
no  other  reason  than  because  thou  art  unacquainted  with 
these  great  men,  and  hast  not  had  sufficient  instruction, 
leisure,  or  opportunity,  to  consider  what  happens  to  those 
who  pursue  what  is  generally  understood  by  greatness  ; 
for  surely,  if  thou  hadst  animadverted,  not  only  on  the 
many  perils  to  which  great  men  are  daily  liable  while 
they  are  in  their  progress,  but  hadst  discerned,  as  it  were 
through  a  microscope  (for  it  is  invisible  to  the  naked  eye), 
that  diminutive  speck  of  happiness  which  they  attain  even 
in  the  consummation  of  their  wishes,  thou  wouldst  lament 
with  me  the  unhappy  fate  of  these  great  men,  on  whom 
nature  hath  set  so  superior  a  mark,  that  the  rest  of  man- 
kind are  born  for  their  use  and  emolument  only  and  be 
apt  to  cry  out,  "  It  is  a  pity  that  those  for  whose  pleas- 
ure and  profit  mankind  are  to  labor  and  sweat,  to  be 
hacked  and  hewed,  to  be  pillaged,  plundered,  and  every 
way  destroyed,  should  reap  so  little  advantage  from  all 
the  miseries  they  occasion  to  others."  For  my  part,  I 
own  nryself  of  that  humble  kind  of  mortals  who  consider 
themselves  born  for  the  behoof  of  some  great  man  or 
other,  and  could  I  behold  his  happiness  carved  out  of  the 
labor  and  ruin  of  a  thousand  such  reptiles  as  myself,  I 
might  with  satisfaction  exclaim,  Sic,  sicjuvat:  but  when 
I  behold  one  great  man  starving*  with  hunger  and  freez- 
ing with  cold,  in  the  midst  of  fifty  thousand  who  are  suf- 
fering the  same  evils  for  his  diversion ;  when  I  see 
another,  whose  own  mind  is  a  more  abject  slave  to  his 
own  greatness,  and  is  more  tortured  and  racked  by  it  than 
those  of  all  his  vassals ;  lastly,  when  I  consider  whole 


JONATHAN   WILD.  47 

nations  rooted  out  only  to  bring-  tears  into  the  eyes 
of  a  great  man,  not,  indeed,  because  he  hath  ex- 
tirpated so  many,  but  because  he  had  no  more  nations 
to  extirpate,  then  truly  I  am  almost  inclined  to 
wish  that  nature  had  spared  us  this  her  masterpiece, 
and  that  no  great  man  had  ever  been  born  into  the 
world . 

But  to  proceed  with  our  history,  which  will,  we  hope, 
produce  much  better  lessons,  and  more  instructive,  than 
any  we  can  preach.  Wild  was  no  sooner  retired  to  a 
night-cellar  than  he  began  to  reflect  on  the  sweets  he  had 
that  day  enjoyed  from  the  labors  of  others,  viz.,  first 
from  Mr.  Bagshot,  who  had  for  his  use  robbed  the  count; 
and,  secondly,  from  the  gentleman,  who,  for  the  same 
good  purpose,  had  picked  the  pocket  of  Bagshot.  He 
then  proceeded  to  reason  thus  with  himself  "  The  art  of 
policy  is  the  art  of  multiplication,  the  degrees  of  great 
ness  being  constituted  by  those  two  little  words  more  and 
less.  Mankind  are  first  properly  to  be  considered  under 
two  grand  divisions,  those  that  use  their  own  hands,  and 
those  who  employ  the  hands  of  others.  The  former  are 
the  base  and  rabble,  the  latter,  ths  genteel  part  of  the 
creation.  The  mercantile  part  of  the  world,  therefore/ 
wisely  use  the  term  employing  hands,  and  justly  prefer 
each  other  as  they  employ  more  or  fewer:  for  thus  one 
merchant  sa}Ts  he  is  greater  than  another  because  he 
employs  more  hands.  And  now  indeed  the  merchant 
should  seem  to  challenge  some  character  of  greatness, 
did  we  not  necessarity  come  to  a  second  division,  viz.  of 
those  who  employ  hands  for  the  use  of  the  community  in 
which  the3r  live,  and  of  those  who  employ  hands  merely 
for  their  own  use,  without  any  regard  to  the  benefit  of 
society.  Of  the  former  sort  are  the  yeoman,  the  manu- 
facturer, the  merchant,  and  perhaps  the  gentleman.  The 
first  of  these  being  to  manure  and  cultivate  his  native 
soil,  and  to  employ  hands  to  produce  the  fruits  of  the  earth. 
The  second  being  to  improve  them  by  employing  hands 


48  JONATHAN  WILD. 

likewise,  and  to  produce  from  them  those  useful  com- 
modities which  serve  as  well  for  the  conveniences    as 
necessaries  of  life.     The  third  is  to  employ  hands  for  the 
exportation  of  the  redundance  of  our  own  commodities, 
and  to  exchange  them  with  the  redundances  of  foreign 
nations,  and  thus  every  soil  and  every  climate  may  en- 
joy the  fruits  of  the  whole  earth.     The  gentleman  is,  by 
employing  hands,  likewise  to  embellish  his   country  with 
the  improvement  of  arts  and  sciences,  with  the   making 
and  executing  good  and  wholesome  laws  for  the  preserva- 
tion of  property  and  the  distribution  of  justice,  and  in 
several  other  manners  to  be  useful  to  society.     Now  we 
come  to  the  second   part  of  this  division;  viz.   of  those 
who    employ  hands  for  their  own  use  only:  and  this  is 
that  noble  and  great  part  who  are  generally  distinguished 
into  conquerors,  absolute  princes,  statesmen,  and  prigs* 
Now  all  these  differ  from  each  other  in  greatness  only— 
they  employ  more  or  fewer  hands.     And  Alexander  the 
Great  was  only  greater  than  a  captain  of  one  of  the  Tar- 
tarian or  Arabian  hordes,  as  he  was  at  the  head  of  a 
larger  number.     In  what  then  is  a  single  prig  inferior  to 
any    other    great    man,  but    because    he    employs  his 
hands  only;  for  he  is  not  on  that  account  to   be   levelled 
with  the    base    and    vulgar,   because  he  employs    his 
hands  for  his  own  use  only.     Now,  suppose  a  prig  had  as 
many  tools  as  any  prime  minister  ever  had,  would  he  not 
be   as  great  as  any  prime  minister  whatsoever  ?     Un- 
doubtedly he  would.     What  then  have  I  to  do  in  the  pur- 
suit of  greatness  but  to  procure  a  gang,  and  to  make  the 
use  of  this  gang  centre  in  myself  ?     This  gang  shall  rob 
forme  only,  receiving  very  moderate  rewards  for  their 
actions;  out  of  this  gang  I  will   prefer   to   my  favor  the 
boldest  and  most  iniquitous  (as  the  vulgar  express  it); 
the  rest  I  will,  from  time  to  time,  as  I  see  occasion,  trans- 
port and   hang  at  my  pleasure;  and  thus  (which  I  take 
to  be  the  highest  excellence  of  a  prig)  convert  those  laws 

*  Thieves. 


JONATHAN   WILD.  49 

which  are  made  for  the  benefit  and  protection  of  society 
to  my  single  use." 

Having  thus  preconceived  his  scheme,  he  saw  nothing 
wanting  to  put  it  in  immediate  execution  but  that  which 
is  indeed  the  beginning  as  well  as  the  end  of  all  human 
devices:  I  mean  money.  Of  which  commodity  he  was 
possessed  of  no  more  than  sixty-five  guineas,  being  all 
that  remained  from  the  double  benefits  he  had  made  of 
Bagshot,  and  which  did  not  seem  sufficient  to  furnish  his 
house,  and  every  other  convenience  necessary  for  so  grand 
an  undertaking.  He  resolved,  therefore,  to  go  immedi- 
to  the  gaming  house,  which  was  then  sitting,  not  so  much 
with  an  intention  of  trusting  to  fortune  as  to  play  the 
surer  card  of  attacking  the  winner  in  his  way  home.  On 
his  arrival,  however,  he  thought  he  might  as  well  try  his 
success  at  the  dice,  and  reserve  the  other  resource  as  his 
last  expedient.  He  accordingly  sat  down  to  play,  and  as 
Fortune,  no  more  than  others  of  her  sex,  is  observed  to 
distribute  her  favors  with  strict  regard  to  great  mental 
endowments  so  our  hero  lost  every  farthing  in  his  pocket. 
This  loss  however  he  bore  with  great  constancy  of  mind, 
and  with  as  great  composure  of  aspect.  To  say  truth, 
he  considered  the  money  as  only  lent  for  a  short  time,  or 
rather  indeed  as  deposited  with  a  banker.  He  then  re- 
solved to  have  immediate  recourse  to  his  surer  strategem; 
and,  casting  his  eyes  round  the  room,  he  soon  perceived 
a  gentleman  sitting  in  a  disconsolate  posture,  who  seemed 
a  proper  instrument  or  tool  for  his  purpose.  In  short 
(to  be  as  concise  as  possible  in  these  least  shining  parts 
of  our  history),  Wild  accosted  this  man,  sounded  him, 
found  him  fit  to  execute,  proposed  the  matter,  received  a 
ready  assent,  and,  having  fixed  on  the  person  who  seemed 
that  evening  the  greatest  favorite  of  fortune,  they  posted 
themselves  in  the  most  proper  place  to  surprise  the  ene- 
my as  he  was  retiring  to  his  quarters,  where  he  was  soon 
attacked,  subdued,  and  plundered;  but  indeed  of  no  con- 
siderable booty;  for  it  seems  this  gentleman  played  on  a 


50 


JONATHAN  WILD. 


common  stock,  and  had  deposited  his  winnings  at  the 
scene  of  action,  nor  had  he  any  more  than  two  shillings 
in  his  pocket  when  he  was  attacked. 

This  was  so  cruel  a  disappointment  to  Wild,  and  so 
sensibly  affects  us,  as  no  doubt  it  will  the  reader,  that, 
as  it  must  disqualify  us  both  from  proceeding1  any 
farther  at  present,  we  will  now  take  a  little  breath,  and 
therefore  we  shall  here  close  this  book. 


JONATHAN  WILD,  51 


BOOK  II. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Characters  of  silly  people,  ivith  the  proper  uses  for  ivhich  such  are 

designed. 

One  reason  why  we  chose  to  end  our  first  book,  as  we 
did,  with  the  last  chapter,  was,  that  we  are  now  obliged 
to  produce  two  characters  of  a  stamp  entirely  different 
from  what  we  have  hitherto  dealt  in.  These  persons  are 
of  that  pitiful  order  of  mortals  who  are  in  contempt  called 
good-natured  ;  being  indeed  sent  into  the  world  by  na- 
ture with  the  same  design  with  which  men  put  little  fish 
into  a  pike-pond  in  order  to  be  devoured  by  that  voracious 
water-hero. 

But  to  proceed  with  our  history:  Wild,  having  shared 
the  booty  in  much  the  same  manner  as  before,  i.e.,  taken 
three-fourths  of  it,  amounting  to  eighteen- pence,  was  now 
retiring  to  rest,  in  no  very  happy  mood,  when  by  accident 
he  met  with  a  young  fellow  who  had  formerly  been  his 
companion,  and  indeed  intimate  friend,  at  school.  It 
hath  been  thought  that  friendship  is  usually  nursed  by 
similitude  of  manners,  but  the  contrary  had  been  the 
case  between  these  la  ds ;  for  whereas  Wild  was  rapacious 
and  intrepid,  the  other  had  always  more  regard  for  his 
skin  than  his  money ;  Wild  therefore  had  very  generously 
compassionated  this  defect  in  his  schoolfellow,  and  had 
brought  him  off  from  many  scrapes,  into  most  of  which 
he  had  first  drawn  him,  by  taking  the  fault  and  whipping 
to  himself.  He  had  ,  lways  indeed  been  well  paid  on  such 
occasions ;  but  there  are  a  sort  of  people  who,  together 


52  JONATHAN  WILD. 

with  the  hest  of  the  bargain,  will  be  sure  to  have  the  ob. 
ligation  too  on  their  side ;  so  it  had  happened  here :  for  this 
poor  lad  had  considered  himself  in  the  highest  degree 
obliged  to  Mr.  Wild,  and  had  contracted  a  very  great 
esteem  and  friendship  for  him;  the  traces  of  which 
an  absence  of  many  years  had  not  in  the  least  effaced  in 
his  mind.  He  no  sooner  knew  Wild,  therefore,  than  he 
accosted  him  in  the  most  friendly  manner,  and  invited 
him  home  with  him  to  breakfast  (it  being  now  near  nine 
in  the  morning),  which  invitation  our  hero. with  no  great 
difficulty  consented  to.  This  young  man,  who  was  about 
Wild's  age,  had  some  time  before  set  up  in  the  trade  of  a 
jeweler,  in  the  materials  or  stock  for  which  he  had  laid 
out  the  greatest  part  of  a  little  fortune,  and  had  married 
a  very  agreeable  woman  for  love,  by  whom  he  then  had 
two  children.  As  our  reader  is  to  be  more  acquainted 
with  this  person,  it  may  not  be  improper  to  open  some- 
what of  his  character,  especially  as  it  will  serve  as  a  kind 
of  foil  to  the  noble  and  great  disposition  of  our  hero,  and 
as  the  one  seems  sent  into  this  world  as  a  proper  object 
on  which  the  talents  of  the  other  were  to  be  displayed 
with  a  proper  and  just  success. 

Mr.  Thomas  Heartfree  then  (for  that  was  his  name) 
was  of  an  honest  and  open  disposition.  He  was  of  that 
sort  of  men  whom  experience  only,  and  not  their  own  na- 
tures, must  inform  that  there  are  such  things  as  deceit 
and  hypocrisy  in  the  world,  and  who,  consequently,  are 
not  at  five-and-twenty  so  difficult  to  be  imposed  upon  as 
the  oldest  and  most  subtle.  He  was  possessed  of  several 
great  weaknesses  of  mind,  being  good-natured,  friendly, 
and  generous  to  a  great  excess.  He  had,  indeed,  too 
little  regard  to  common  justice,  for  he  had  forgiven  some 
debts  to  his  acquaintance  only  because  they  could  not 
pay  him,  and  had  intrusted  a  bankrupt,  on  his  setting  up 
a  second  time,  from  having  been  convinced  that  he  had 
dealt  in  his  bankruptcy  with  a  fair  and  honest  heart,  and 
that  he  had  broke  through  misfortune  only,  and  not  from 


JONATHAN  WILD.  53 

neglect  or  imposture.  He  was  withal  so  silly  a  fellow 
that  he  never  took  the  least  advantage  of  the  ignorance 
of  his  customers  ?  and  contented  himself  with  very  moder- 
ate gains  on  his  goods ;  which  he  was  the  better  enabled 
to  do,  notwithstanding  his  generosity,  because  his  life 
was  extremely  temperate,  his  expenses  being  solely  con- 
fined to  the  cheerful  entertainment  of  his  friends  at  home, 
and  now  and  then  a  moderate  glass  of  wine,  in  which  he 
indulged  himself  in  the  company  of  his  wife,  who,  with 
an  agreeable  person,  was  a  mean-spirited,  poor,  domestic, 
low-bred  animal,  who  confined  herself  mostly  to  the  care 
of  her  family,  placed  her  happiness  in  her  husband  and 
her  children,  followed  no  expensive  fashions  or  diversions, 
and  indeed  rarely  went  abroad,  unless  to  return  the  visits 
of  a  few  plain  neighbors,  and  twice  a  year  afforded  her- 
self, in  company  with  her  husband,  the  diversion  of  a 
play,  where  she  never  sat  in  a  higher  place  than  the  pit. 

To  this  silly  woman  did  this  silly  fellow  introduce  the 
Great  Wild,  informing  her  at  the  same  time  of  their 
school  acquaintance  and  the  many  obligations  he  had  re- 
ceived from  him.  This  simple  woman  no  sooner  heard 
her  husband  had  been  obliged  to  her  guest  than  her  eyes 
sparkled  on  him  with  a  benevolence  which  is  an  emanation 
from  the  heart,  and  of  which  great  and  noble  minds, 
whose  hearts  never  swell  but  with  an  injury,  can  have  no 
very  adequate  idea ;  it  is  therefore  no  wonder  that  our 
hero  should  misconstrue,  as  he  did,  the  poor,  innocent, 
and  simple  affection  of  Mrs.  Heartfree  towards  her  hus- 
band's friend  for  that  great  and  generous  passion  which 
fires  the  eyes  of  a  modern  heroine  when  the  colonel  is  so 
kind  as  to  indulge  his  city  creditor  with  partaking  of  his 
table  to-day  and  of  his  bed  to-morrow.  Wild,  therefore, 
instantly  returned  the  compliment  as  he  understood  it, 
with  his  eyes,  and  presently  after  bestowed  many  enco- 
miums on  her  beauty,  with  which,  perhaps,  she,  who  was 
a  woman,  though  a  good  one,  and  misapprehended  the 
design,  was  not  displeased  any  more  than  the  husband. 


54  JONATHAN  WILD. 

When  breakfast  was  ended,  and  the  wife  retired  to  her 
household  affairs,  Wild,  who  had  a  quick  discernment 
into  the  weaknesses  of  men,  and  who,  besides  the  knowl- 
edge of  his  good  (or  foolish)  disposition  when  a  boy,  had 
now  discovered  several  sparks  of  goodness,  friendship, 
and  generosity  in  his  friend,  began  to  discourse  over  the 
accidents  which  had  happened  in  their  childhood,  and 
took  frequent  occasions  of  reminding  him  of  those  favors 
which  we  have  before  mentioned  his  having  conferred  on 
him ;  he  then  proceeded  to  the  most  vehement  profes- 
sions of  friendship,  and  to  the  most  ardent  expressions 
of  joy  in  this  renewal  of  their  acquaintance.  He  at 
last  told  him,  with  great  seeming  pleasure,  that  he 
believed  he  had  an  opportunity  of  serving  him  by  the 
recommendation  of  a  gentleman  to  his  custom,  who  was 
then  on  the  brink  of  marriage.  "  And,  if  he  be  not  already 
engaged,  I  wilV  says  he,  "  endeavor  to  prevail  on  him 
to  furnish  his  lady  with  jewels  at  your  shop." 

Heartfree  was  not  backward  in  thanks  to  our  hero, 
and,  after  many  earnest  solicitations  to  dinner,  which 
were  i-efused,  they  parted  for  the  first  time. 

But  here,  as  it  occurs  to  our  memory  that  our  readers 
may  be  surprised  (an  accident  which  sometimes  happens 
in  histories  of  this  kind)  how  Mr.  Wild  the  elder,  in  his 
present  capacity,  should  have  been  able  to  maintain  his 
son  at  a  reputable  school,  as  this  appears  to  have  been, 
it  may  be  necessary  to  inform  him  that  Mr.  Wild  himself 
was  then  a  tradesman  in  good  business,  but,  by  misfor- 
tunes in  the  world,  to  wit,  extravagance  and  gaming,  he 
had  reduced  himself  to  that  honorable  occupation  which 
we  have  formerly  mentioned. 

Having  cleared  up  this  doubt,  we  will  now  pursue  our 
hero,  who  forthwith  repaired  to  the  count,  and,  having 
first  settled  preliminary  articles  concerning  distributions., 
he  acquainted  him  with  the  scheme  which  he  had  formed 
against  Heartfree ;  and  after  consulting  proper  methods 
to  put  it  in  execution,  they  began  to  concert  measures  for 


JONATHAN   WILD.  55 

the  enlargement  of  the  count ;  on  which  the  first,  and 
indeed  only  point  to  be  considered,  was  to  raise  money, 
not  to  pay  his  debts,  for  that  would  have  required  an 
immense  sum,  and  was  contrary  to  his  inclination  or 
intention,  but  to  procure  him  bail ;  for  as  to  his  escape, 
Mr.  Snap  had  taken  such  precautions  that  it  appeared 
absolutely  impossible. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Great  examples  of  greatness  in  Wild,  shown  asivell  by  his  behavior 
to  Bagshot  as  in  a  scheme  laid,  first,  to  impose  on  Heartfree  by 
means  of  the  count,  and  then  to  cheat  the  count  of  the  booty. 

Wild  undertook  therefore  to  extract  some  money  from 
Bagshot,  who,  notwithstanding-  the  depredations  made 
on  him,  had  carried  off  a  pretty  considerable  booty  from 
their  engagement  at  dice  the  preceding  day.  He  found 
Mr.  Bagshot  in  expectation  of  his  bail,  and,  with  a  coun- 
tenance full  of  concern,  which  he  could  at  any  time,  with 
wonderful  art,  put  on,  told  him  that  all  was  discovered ; 
that  the  count  knew  him,  and  intended  to  prosecute  him 
for  the  robbery,  ' '  had  not  I  exerted  (said  he)  my  utmost 
interest,    and  with  great  difficulty  prevailed  on  him  in 

case  you  refund  the  money "  — "  Refund  the  money  !" 

cried  Bagshot,  "  that  is  in  your  power :  for  you  know 
what  an  inconsiderable  part  of  it  fell  to  my  share." — 
"  How  I"  replied  Wild,  "is  this  your  gratitnde  to  me  for 
saving  your  life  ?  For  your  own  conscience  must  con- 
vince you  of  your  g'uilt,  and  with  how  much  certainty  the 
gentleman  can  give  evidence  against  you." — "Marry, 
come  up  I"  quoth  Bagshot ;  "I  believe  my  life  alone  will 
not  be  in  danger.  I  know  those  who  are  as  guilty  as  my- 
self. Do  you  tell  me  of  conscience?" — "Yes,  sirrah!" 
answered  our  hero,  taking  him  by  the  collar  ;  "  and  since 
you  dare  threaten  me  I  will  show  you  the  difference  be- 
tween committing  a  robbery  and  conniving  at  it,  which  is 


56  JONATHAN  WILD. 

all  I  can  charge  myself  with.  I  own  indeed  I  suspected, 
when  you  showed  me  a  sum  of  money,  that  you  had 
not  come  honestly  "by  it." — "How!"  says  Bag-shot, 
frightened  out  of  one-half  of  his  wits,  and  amazed  out  of 
the  other,  "can  you  deny?" — "Yes,  you  rascal,"  an- 
swered Wild,  "  I  do  deny  everything- ;  and  do  you  find  a 
witness  to  prove  it :  and,  to  show  you  how  little  appre- 
hension I  have  of  your  power  to  hurt  me,  I  will  have  you 
apprehended  this  moment."  At  which  words  he  offered 
to  "break  from  him ;  but  Bag-shot  laid  hold  of  his  skirts, 
and,  with  an  altered  tone  and  manner,  begged  him  not  to 
be  so  impatient.  "Refund  then,  sirrah,"  cries  "Wild, 
"  and  perhaps  I  may  take  pity  on  you." — "  What  must  I 
refund ?"  answered  Bagshot. — "Every  farthing  in  your 
pocket,"  replied  Wild  ;  "then  I  may  have  some  compas- 
sion on  you,  and  not  only  save  your  life,  but,  out  of  an 
excess  of  generosity,  may  return  you  something."  At 
which  words  Bagshot  seeming  to  hesitate,  Wild  pretended 
to  make  to  the  door,  and  rapt  out  an  oath  of  vengeance 
with  so  violent  an  emphasis,  that  his  friend  no  longer 
presumed  to  balance,  hut  suffered  Wild  to  search  his 
pockets  and  draw  forth  all  he  found,  to  the  amount  of 
twenty-one  guineas  and  a  half,  which  last  piece  our  gen- 
erous hero  returned  him  again,  telling  him  he  might  now 
sleep  secure,  hut  advised  him  for  the  future  never  to 
threaten  his  friends. 

Thus  did  our  hero  execute  the  greatest  exploits  with 
the  utmost  ease  imaginahle,  hy  means  of  those  transcend- 
ent qualities  which  nature  had  indulged  him  with,  viz.  a 
bold  heart,  a  thundering  voice,  and  a  steady  countenance. 

Wild  now  returned  to  the  count,  and  informed  him  that 
he  had  got  ten  guineas  of  Bagshot :  for,  with  great  and 
commendable  prudence,  he  sunk  the  other  eleven  into  his 
own  pocket,  and  told  him  with  that  money  he  would  pro- 
cure him  bail,  which  he  after  prevailed  on  his  father,  and 
another  gentleman  of  the  same  occupation,  to  become,  for 
two  guineas  each  ;  so  that  he  made  lawful  prize  of  six 


JONATHAN  WILD.  57 

more,  making  Bag-shot  debtor  for  the  whole  ten ;  for  such 
were  his  great  abilities,  and  so  vast  the  compass  of  his 
understanding,  that  he  never  made  any  bargain  without 
overreaching  (or,  in  the  vulgar  phrase,  cheating)  the  per- 
son with  whom  he  dealt. 

The  count  being,  by  these  means,  enlarged,  the  first 
thing  they  did,  in  order  to  procure  credit  from  trades- 
men, was  the  taking  a  handsome  house  ready  furnished 
in  one  of  the  new  streets ;  in  which  as  soon  as  the  count 
was  settled,  they  proceeded  to  furnish  him  with  servants 
and  equipage,  and  all  the  insignia  of  a  large  estate 
proper  to  impose  on  poor  Heartfree.  These  being  all  ob- 
tained, Wild  made  a  second  visit  to  his  friend,  and  with 
much  joy  in  his  countenance  acquainted  him  that  he  had 
succeeded  in  his  endeavors,  and  that  the  gentleman  had 
promised  to  deal  with  him  for  the  jewels  which  he  in- 
tended to  present  his  bride,  and  which  were  designed  to 
be  very  splendid  and  costly ;  he  therefore  appointed  him 
to  go  to  the  count  the  next  morning,  and  carry  with  him 
a  set  of  the  richest  and  most  beautiful  jewels  he  had,  giv- 
ing him  at  the  same  time  some  hints  of  the  count's  ignor- 
ance of  that  commodity,  and  that  he  might  extort  what 
price  of  him  he  pleased ;  but  Heartfree  told  him,  not 
without  some  disdain,  that  he  scorned  to  take  any 
such  advantage ;  and,  after  expressing  much  grati- 
tude to  hisfriend  for  his  recommendation,  he  promised 
to  carry  the  jewels  at  the  hour  and  to  the  place  ap- 
pointed. 

I  am  sensible  that  the  reader,  if  he  hath  but  the  least 
notion  of  greatness,  must  have  such  a  contempt  for  the 
extreme  folly  of  this  fellow,  that  he  will  be  very  little 
concerned  at  any  misfortunes  which  may  befall  him  in 
the  sequel ;  for  to  have  no  suspicion  that  an  old  school- 
fellow, with  whom  he  had,  in  his  tenderest  years,  con- 
tracted a  friendship,  and  who,  on  the  accidental  renewing 
of  their  acquaintance,  had  professed  the  most  passionate 
regard  for  him,  should  be  very  ready  to  impose   on  him ; 


58  JONATHAN  WILD. 

in  short,  to  conceive  that  a  friend  should,  of  his  own  ac- 
cord, without  any  view  to  his  own  interest,  endeavor  to 
do  him  a  service,  must  argue  such  weakness  of  mind,  such 
ignorance  of  the  world,  and  such  an  artless,  simple,  un- 
designing  heart,  as  must  render  the  person  possessed  of 
it  the  lowest  creature  and  the  properest  object  of  con- 
tempt imaginable  in  the  eyes  of  every  man  of  understand- 
ing and  discernment. 

Wild  remembered  that  his  friend  Heartfree's  faults 
were  rather  in  his  heart  than  in  his  head  ;  that,  though 
he  was  so  mean  a  fellow  that  he  was  never  capable  of 
laying  a  design  to  injure  any  human  creature,  yet  was  he 
by  no  means  a  fool,  nor  liable  to  any  gross  imposition, 
unless  where  his  heart  betrayed  him.  He  therefore  in- 
structed the  count  to  take  only  one  of  his  jewels  at  the 
first  interview,  and  to  reject  the  rest  as  not  fine  enough, 
and  order  him  to  provide  some  richer.  He  said  this  man- 
agement would  prevent  Heartfree  from  expecting  ready 
money  for  the  jewel  he  brought  with  him,  which  the 
count  was  presently  to  dispose  of,  and  by  means  of  that 
money,  and  his  great  abilities  at  cards  and  dice,  to  get 
together  as  large  a  sum  as  possible,  which  he  was  to  pay 
down  to  Heartfree  at  the  delivery  of  the  set  of  jewels,  who 
would  be  thus  void'  of  all  maimer  of  suspicion,  and  would 
not  fail  to  give  him  credit  for  the  residue. 

By  this  contrivance,  it  will  appear  in  the  sequel  that 
Wild  did  not  only  propose  to  make  the  imposition  on 
Heartfree,  who  was  (hitherto)  void  of  all  suspicion,  more 
certain  ;  but  to  rob  the  count  himself  of  this  sum.  This 
double  method  of  cheating  the  very  tools  who  are  our  in- 
struments to  cheat  others  is  the  superlative  degree  of 
greatness,  and  is  probably,  as  far  as  any  spirit  crusted 
over  with  clay  can  carry  it,  falling  very  little  short  of 
diabolism  itself. 

This  method  was  immediately  put  in  execution,  and  the 
count  the  first  day  took  only  a  single  brilliant,  worth 
about  three   hundred  pounds,  and   ordered   a  necklace, 


JONATHAN  WILD.  59 

earring-s,  and  solitaire,  of  the  value  of  three  thousand 
more,  to  he  prepared  by  that  day  sevennight. 

This  interval  was  employed  by  Wild  in  prosecuting  his 
scheme  of  raising  a  gang,  in  which  he  met  with  such  suc- 
cess, that  within  a  few  days  he  had  levied  several  bold 
and  resolute  fellows,  fit  for  any  enterprise,  how  danger- 
ous or  great  soever. 

We  have  before  remarked  that  the  truest  mark  of 
greatness  is  insatiability.  Wild  had  covenanted  with  the 
count  to  receive  three-fourths  of  the  booty,  and  had^  at 
the  same  time,  covenanted  with  himself  to  secure  the  other 
fourth  part  likewise,  for  which  he  had  formed  a  very 
great  and  noble  design ;  but  he  now  saw  with  concern 
that  sum  which  was  to  be  received  in  hand  by  Heartfree 
in  danger  of  being  absolutely  lost.  In  order  therefore  to 
possess  himself  of  that  likewise,  he  contrived  that  the  jew- 
els should  be  brought  in  the  afternoon,  and  that  Heart- 
free  should  be  detained  before  the  count  could  see  him ; 
so  that  the  night  should  overtake  him  in  his  return,  when 
two  of  his  gang  were  ordered  to  attack  and  plunder  him. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Containing  scenes  of  softness,  love,  and  honor,  all  in  the  great  style. 
The  count  had  disposed  of  his  jewel  for  its  full  value, 
and  this  he  had  by  dexterity  raised  to  a  thousand  pounds; 
this  sum  therefore  he  paid  down  to  Heartfree,  promising 
him  the  rest  within  a  month.  His  house,  his  equipage, 
his  appearance,  but,  above  all,  a  certain  plausibility  in 
his  voice  and  behavior,  would  have  deceived  any  but  one 
whose  great  and  wise  heart  had  dictated  to  him  some- 
thing within  which  would  have  secured  him  from  any 
danger  of  imposition  from  without.  Heartfree  therefore 
did  not  in  the  least  scruple  giving  him  credit;  but,  as  he 
had  in  reality  procured  those  jewels  of  another,  his  own 
little  stock  not  being  able  to  furnish  anything  so  valuable. 


60  JONATHAN  WILD. 

he  begged  the  count  would  he  so  kind  to  give  his  note  for 
the  money,  payable  at  the  time  he  mentioned;  which  that 
gentleman  did  not  in  the  least  scruple ;  so  he  paid  him  the 
thousand  pounds  in  specie,  and  gave  his  note  for  two 
thousand  eight  hundred  pounds  more  to  Heartfree,  who 
burnt  with  gratitude  to  Wild  for  the  noble  customer  he 
had  recommended  to  him. 

As  soon  as  Heartfree  was  departed,  Wild,  who  waited 
in  another  room,  came  in  and  received  the  casket  from 
the  count,  it  having  been  agreed  between  them  that  this 
should  be  deposited  in  his  hands,  as  he  was  the  original 
contriver  of  the  scheme,  and  was  to  have  the  largest 
share.  Wild,  having  received  the  casket,  offered  to  meet 
the  count  late  that  evening  to  come  to  a  division,  but  such 
was  the  latter's  confidence  in  the  honor  of  our  hero,  that 
he  said,  if  it  was  any  inconvenience  to  him,  the  next  morn- 
ing would  do  altogether  as  well.  This  was  more  agree- 
able to  Wild,  and  accordingly,  an  appointment  being 
made  for  that  purpose,  he  set  out  in  haste  to  pursue 
Heartfree  to  the  place  where  the  two  gentlemen  were 
ordered  to  meet  and  attack  him.  Those  gentlemen  with 
noble  resolution  executed  their  purpose;  they  attacked 
and  spoiled  the  enemy  of  the  whole  sum  he  had  received 
from  the  count. 

As  soon  as  the  engagement  was  over,  and  Heartfree 
left  sprawling  on  the  ground,  our  hero,  who  wisely  de- 
clined trusting  the  booty  in  his  friends'  hands,  though  he 
had  good  experience  of  their  honor,  made  off  after  the 
conquerors  :  at  length,  they  being  all  at  a  place  of  safety, 
Wild,  according  to  a  previous  agreement,  received  nine- 
tenths  of  the  booty  :  the  subordinate  heroes  did  indeed 
profess  some  little  unwillingness  (perhaps  more  than  was 
strictly  consistent  with  honor)  to  perform  their  contract ; 
but  Wild,  partly  by  argument,  but  more  by  oaths  and 
threatenings,  prevailed  with  them  to  fulfill  their  promise. 

Our  hero  having  thus,  with  wonderful  address,  brought 
this  great  and  glorious  action  to  a  happy  conclusion,  re- 


JONATHAN  WILD.  61 

solved  to  relax  his  mind  after  his  fatigue,  in  the  conver- 
sation of  the  fair.  He  therefore  set  forwards  to  his  lovely 
Lastitia;  but  in  his  way  accidentally  met  with  a  young- lady 
of  his  acquaintance,  Miss  Molly  Straddle,  who  was  taking 
the  air  in  Bridges  street.  Miss  Molly,  seeing  Mr,  Wild, 
stopped  him,  and  with  a  familiarity  peculiar  to  a  genteel 
town  education,  tapped  or  rather  slapped  him  on  the  back, 
and  asked  him  to  treat  her  with  a  pint  of  wine  at  a  neigh- 
boring tavern.  The  hero,  though  he  loved  the  chaste 
Lsetitia  with  excessive  tenderness,  was  not  of  that  low 
sniveling  breed  of  mortals  who,  as  it  is  generally  ex- 
pressed, tie  themselves  to  a  woman's  apron-strings ; 
in  a  word,  who  are  tainted  with  that  mean,  base,  low  vice, 
or  virtue  as  it  is  called,  of  constancy ;  therefore  he  imme- 
diately consented,  and  attended  her  to  a  tavern  famous 
for  excellent  wine,  known  by  the  name  of  the  Rummer 
and  Horseshoe,  where  they  retired  to  a  room  by  them- 
selves. Wild  was  very  vehement  in  his  addresses,  but  to 
no  purpose  ;  the  young  lady  declared  she  would  grant  no 
favor  till  he  had  made  her  a  present ;  this  was  imme- 
diately complied  with,  and  the  lover  made  as  happy  as  he 
could  desire. 

The  immoderate  fondness  which  Wild  entertained  for 
his  dear  Lsetitia  would  not  suffer  him  to  waste  any  con- 
siderable time  with  Miss  Straddle.  Notwithstanding, 
therefore,  all  the  endearments  and  caresses  of  that  young 
lady,  he  soon  made  an  excuse  to  go  down  stairs,  and 
thence  immediately  set  forward  to  Leetitia  without  taking 
any  formal  leave  of  Miss  Straddle,  or  indeed  of  the 
drawer,  with  whom  the  lady  was  afterwards  obliged  to 
come  to  an  account  for  the  reckoning. 

Mr.  Wild,  on  his  arrival  at  Mr.  Snap's,  found  only  Miss 
Doshy  at  home,  that  young  lady  being  employed  alone, 
in  imitation  of  Penelope,  with  her  thread  or  worsted,  only 
with  this  difference,  that  whereas  Penelope  unraveled  by 
night  what  she  had  knit  or  wove  or  spun  by  day,  so  what 
our  young  heroine  unraveled  by  day  she  knit  again  by 


62  JONATHAN   WILD. 

night.  In  short,  she  was  mending  a  pair  of  blue  stock- 
ings with  red  clocks ;  a  circumstance  which  perhaps  we 
might  have  omitted,  had  it  not  served  to  show  that  there 
are  still  some  ladies  of  this  age  who  imitate  the  simplicity 
of  the  ancients. 

Wild  immediately  asked  for  his  beloved,  and  was  in- 
formed that  she  was  not  at  home.  He  then  inquired 
where  she  was  to  be  found,  and  declared  he  would  not 
depart  till  he  had  seen  her,  na}r,  not  till  he  had  married 
her ;  for,  indeed,  his  passion  for  her  was  truly  honorable  ; 
in  other  words,  he  had  so  ungovernable  a  desire  for  her 
person,  that  he  would  go  any  length  to  satisfy  it.  He  then 
pulled  out  the  casket,  which  he  swore  was  full  of  the  finest 
jewels,  and  that  he  would  give  them  all  to  her,  with 
other  promises,  which  so  prevailed  on  Miss  Doshy,  who 
had  not  the  common  failure  of  sisters  in  envying,  and 
often  endeavoring  to  disappoint,  each  other's  happiness, 
that  she  desired  Mr.  Wild  to  sit  down  a  few  minutes, 
whilst  she  endeavored  to  find  her  sister  and  to  bring  her 
to  him.  The  lover  thanked  her,  and  promised  to  stay 
till  her  return;  and  Miss  Dosh}7,  leaving  Mr.  Wild  to  his 
meditations,  fastened  him  in  the  kitchen  by  barring  the 
door  (for  most  of  the  doors  in  this  mansion  were  made  to 
be  bolted  on  the  outside),  and  then,  slapping  to  the  door 
of  the  house  with  great  violence,  without  going  out  at  it, 
she  stole  softly  upstairs  where  Miss  Lastitia  was  engaged 
in  close  conference  with  Mr.  Bagshot.  Miss  Letty,  being 
informed  by  her  sister  in  a  whisper  of  what  Mr.  Wild  had 
said,  and  what  he  had  produced,  told  Mr.  Bagshot  that  a 
young  lady  was  below  to  visit  her  whom  she  would  dis- 
patch with  all  imaginable  haste  and  return  to  him.  She 
desired  him  therefore  to  stay  with  patience  for  her  in 
the  meantime,  and  that  she  would  leave  the  door 
unlocked,  though  her  papa  would  never  forgive  her  if  he 
should  discover  it.  Bagshot  promised  on  his  honor  not 
to  step  without  his  chamber ;  and  the  two  young  ladies 
went  softly  downstairs,  when,  pretending  first  to  make 


JONATHAN  WILD.  63 

their  entry  into  the  house,  they  repaired  to  the  kitchen, 
where  not  even  the  presence  of  the  chaste  Lastitia  could 
restore  that  harmony  to  the  countenance  of  her  lover 
which  Miss  Theodosia  had  left  him  possessed   of;  for, 
during-  her  absence,  he  had  discovered  the  absence  of  a 
purse  containing  bank-notes   for   900/.,  which  had  been 
taken    from    Mr.   Heartfree,   and    which,   indeed,   Miss 
Straddle  had,  in  the  warmth   of  his  amorous  caresses, 
unperceived  drawn  from  him.     However,  as  he  had  that 
perfect  mastery  of  his  temper,  or  rather  of  his  muscles, 
which  is  as  necessary  to  the  forming  a  great  character  as 
to  the  personating  it  on  the  stage,  he  soon  conveyed  a 
smile  into  his  countenance,  and,  concealing  as  well  his 
misfortune  as  his  chagrin  at  it,  began  to  pay  honorable 
addresses  to  Miss  Letty.     This  young  lady,  among  other 
good  ingredients,  had  three  very  predominant  passions  ; 
to  wit,  vanity,  wantonness,  and  avarice.     To  satisfy  the 
first  of  these  she  employed  Mr.  Smirk  and  company ;  to 
the  second,  Mr.  Bagshot  and  company ;  and  our  hero  had 
the  honor  and  happiness  of  solely  engrossing  the  third. 
Now,  these  three  sorts  of  lovers  she  had  very  different 
ways  of  entertaining.     With  the  first  she  was  all  gay 
and  coquette ;  with  the  second  all  fond  and  rampant ;  and 
with  the  last  all  cold  and  reserved.     She  therefore  told 
Mr.  Wild,  with  a  most  composed  aspect,  that  she  was 
glad  he  had  repented  of  his  manner  of  treating  her  at 
their  last  interview,   where  his  behavior  was  so  mon- 
strous that  she  had  resolved  never  to  see  him  any  more ; 
that  she  was  afraid  her  own  sex  would  hardly  pardon  her 
the  weakness  she  was  guilty  of  in  receding  from  that 
resolution,   which  she  was  persuaded  she  never  should 
have  brought  herself  to,  had  not  her  sister,  who  was 
there  to  confirm  what  she  said  ( as  she  did  with  many 
oaths),  betrayed  her  into  his  company,  by  pretending  it 
was  another  person  to  visit  her  :  but,  however,  as  he  now 
thought  proper  to  give  her  more  convincing  proofs  of  his 
affections  (for  he  had  now  the  casket  in  his  hand),  and 


64  JONATHAN  WILD. 

since  she  perceived  his  designs  were  no  longer  against  her 
virtue,  hut  were  such  as  a  woman  of  honor  might  listen 

to,  she  must  own and  then  she  feigned  an  hesitation, 

when  Theodosia  began  :  "  Nay,  sister,  I  am  resolved  you 
shall  counterfeit  no  longer.  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Wild,  she 
hath  the  most  violent  passion  for  you  in  the  world  ;  and, 
indeed,  dear  Tishy,  if  you  offer  to  go  back,  since  I  plainly 
see  Mr.  Wild's  designs  are  honorable,  I  will  betray  all 
you  have  ever  said." — "  How,  sister  !"  answered  Lgetitia; 
"  I  protest  you  will  drive  me  out  of  the  room  :  I  did  not 
expect  this  usage  from  you.'"  Wild  then  fell  on  his  knees, 
and,  taking  hold  of  her  hand,  repeated  a  speech,  which, 
as  the  reader  may  easily  suggest  it  to  himself,  I  shall  not 
here  set  down.  He  then  offered  her  the  casket,  but  she 
gently  rejected  it ;  and  on  a  second  offer,  with  a  modest 
countenance  and  voice,  desired  to  know  what  it  contained. 
Wild  then  opened  it,  and  took  forth  (with  sorrow  I  write 
it,  and  with  sorrow  will  it  be  read)  one  of  those  beautiful 
necklaces  with  which,  at  the  fair  of  Bartholomew,  they 
deck  the  well-bewhitened  neck  of  Thalestris,  queen  of 
Amazons,  Anna  Bullen,  Queen  Elizabeth,  or  some  other 
high  princess  in  Drollic  story.  It  was  indeed  composed 
of  that  paste  which  Derdaeus  Magnus,  an  ingenious  toy- 
man, doth  at  a  very  moderate  price  dispense  of  to  the 
second-rate  beaux  of  the  metropolis.  For,  to  open  a  truth, 
which  we  ask  our  reader's  pardon  for  having  concealed 
from  him  so  long,  the  sagacious  count,  wisely  fearing  lest 
some  accident  might  prevent  Mr.  Wild's  return  at  the 
appointed  time,  had  carefully  conveyed  the  jewels  which 
Mr.  Heartfree  had  brought  with  him  into  his  own  pocket, 
and  in  their  stead  had  placed  in  the  casket  these  artificial 
stones,  which,  though  of  equal  value  to  a  philosopher, 
and  perhaps  of  a  much  greater  to  a  true  admirer  of  the 
compositions  of  art,  had  not  however  the  same  charms  in 
the  eyes  of  Miss  Letty,  who  had  indeed  some  knowledge 
of  jewels ;  for  Mr.  Snap,  with  great  reason,  considering 
how  valuable  a  part  of  a  lady's  education  it  would  be  to 


D 

OB 
< 


K 
en 


JONATHAN  WILD.  65 

be  well  instructed  in  these  things,  in  an  age  when  young 
ladies  learn  little  more  than  how  to  dress  themselves,  had 
in  her  youth  placed  Miss  Letty  as  the  handmaid  (or  house- 
maid as  the  vulgar  call  it)  of  an  eminent  pawnbroker. 
The  lightning,  therefore,  which  should  have  flashed  from 
the  jewels,  flashed  from  her  eyes,  and  thunder  immedi- 
ately followed  from  her  voice.  She  be-knaved,  be-rascalled, 
be-rogued  the  unhappy  hero,  who  stood  silent,  con- 
founded with  astonishment,  but  more  with  shame  and 
indignation,  at  being  thus  outwitted  and  overreached. 
At  length  he  recovered  his  spirits,  and,  throwing  down 
the  casket  in  a  rage,  he  snatched  the  key  from  the  table, 
and,  without  making  any  answer  to  the  ladies,  who  both 
very  plentifully  opened  upon  him,  and  without  taking 
any  leave  of  them,  he  flew  out  at  the  door,  and  repaired 
with  the  utmost  expedition  to  the  count's  habitation. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

In  which  Wild,  after  many  fruitless  endeavors  to  discover  his 
friend,  moralizes  on  his  misfortune  in  a  speech,  which  may  be  of 
use  (if  rightly  understood)  to  some  other  considerable  speech- 
makers. 

Not  the  highest-fed  footman  of  the  highest-bred  woman 
of  quality  knocks  with  more  impetuosity  than  Wild  did 
at  the  count's  door,  which  was  immediately  opened  by  a 
well-dressed  liveryman,  who  answered  that  his  master 
was  not  at  home.  Wild,  not  satisfied  with  this,  searched 
the  house,  but  to  no  purpose ;  he  then  ransacked  all  the 
gaming-houses  in  town,  but  found  no  count :  indeed,  that 
gentleman  had  taken  leave  of  his  house  the  same  instant 
Mr.  Wild  had  turned  his  back,  and,  equipping  himself 
with  boots  and  a  post-horse,  without  taking  with  him 
either  servants,  clothes,  or  any  necessaries  for  the  jour- 
ney of  a  great  man,  made  such  mighty  expedition  that  he 
was  now  upwards  of  twenty  miles  on  his  way  to  Dover. 


66  JONATHAN  WILD. 

Wild,  finding-  his  search  ineffectual,  resolved  to  give  it 
over  for  that  night ;  he  then  retired  to  his  seat  of  con- 
templation, a  night-cellar,  where,  without  a  single  farth- 
ing in  his  pocket,  he  called  for  a  sneaker  of  punch,  and, 
placing  himself  on  a  bench  by  himself,  he  softly  vented 
the  following  soliloquy  : — 

"  How  vain  is  human  greatness  !  What  avail  su- 
perior abilities,  and  a  noble  defiance  of  those  narrow  rules 
and  bounds  which  confine  the  vulgar,  when  our  best-con- 
certed schemes  are  liable  to  be  defeated  !  How  unhappy 
is  the  state  of  priggism  !  How  impossible  for  human 
prudence  to  foresee  and  guard  against  every  circumven- 
tion !  It  is  even  as  a  game  of  chess,  where,  while  the 
rook,  or  knight,  or  bishop,  is  busied  in  forecasting  some 
great  enterprise,  a  worthless  pawn  interposes  and  discon- 
certs his  scheme.  Better  had  it  been  for  me  to  have  ob- 
served the  simple  laws  of  friendship  and  morality  than 
thus  to  ruin  my  friend  for  the  benefit  of  others.  I  might 
have  commanded  his  purse  to  any  degree  of  moderation  : 
I  have  now  disabled  him  from  the  power  of  serving  me. 
Well !  but  that  was  not  my  design.  If  I  cannot  arraign 
my  own  conduct,  wh}r  should  I,  like  a  woman  or  a  child, 
sit  down  and  lament  the  disappointment  of  chance  ?  But 
can  I  acquit  myself  of  all  neglect  ?  Did  I  not  misbehave 
in  putting  it  into  the  power  of  others  to  outwit  me  ?  But 
that  is  impossible  to  be  avoided.  In  this  a,  prig  is  more 
unhappy  than  any  other :  a  cautious  man  may,  in  a 
crowd,  preserve  his  own  pockets  by  keeping  his  hands  in 
them ;  but  while  the  prig  employs  his  hands  in  another's 
pocket,  how  shall  he  be  able  to  defend  his  own  ?  Indeed, 
in  this  light,  what  can  be  imagined  more  miserable  than  a 
prig  ?  How  dangerous  are  his  acquisitions  !  how  unsafe, 
how  unquiet  his  possessions  !  Why  then  should  any  man 
wish  to  be  a  pi  ig,  or  where  is  his  greatness  ?  I  answer,  in 
his  mind  :  it  is  the  inward  glory,  the  secret  consciousness 
of  doing  great  and  wonderful  actions,  which  can  alone  sup- 
port the  truly  great  man,  whether  he  be  a  conqueror, 


JONATHAN  WILD.  67 

a  tyrant,  a  statesman,  or  a  prig.  These  must  bear  him 
up  against  the  private  curse  and  public  imprecation,  and, 
while  he  is  hated  and  detested  by  all  mankind,  must  make 
him  inwardly  satisfied  with  himself.  For  what  but  some 
such  inward  satisfaction  as  this  could  inspire  men  pos- 
sessed of  power,  of  wealth,  of  every  human  blessing 
which  pride,  avarice,  or  luxury  could  desire,  to  forsake 
their  homes,  abandon  ease  and  repose,  and  at  the  ex- 
pense of  riches  and  pleasures,  at  the  price  of  labor  and 
hardship,  and  at  the  hazard  of  all  that  fortune  hath  lib- 
erally given  them,  could  send  them  at  the  head  of  a  mul- 
titude of  prigs,  called  an  army,  to  molest  their  neighbors ; 
to  introduce  rape,  rapine,  bloodshed,  and  every  kind  of 
misery  among  their  own  species  ?  What  but  some  such 
glorious  appetite  of  mind  could  inflame  princes,  endowed 
with  the  greatest  honors,  and  enriched  with  the  most 
plentiful  revenues,  to  desire  maliciously  to  rob  those  sub- 
jects of  their  liberties  who  are  content  to  sweat  for  the 
luxury,  and  to  bow  down  their  knees  to  the  pride,  of 
those  very  princes  ?  What  but  this  can  inspire  them  to 
destroy  one-half  of  their  subjects,  in  order  to  reduce  the 
rest  to  an  absolute  dependence  on  their  own  wills,  and  on 
those  of  their  brutal  successors?  What  other  motive 
could  seduce  a  subject,  possessed  of  great  property  in  his 
community,  to  betray  the  interest  of  his  fellow-subjects, 
of  his  brethren,  and  his  posterity,  to  the  wanton  disposi- 
tion of  such  princes  ?  Lastly,  what  less  inducement  could 
persuade  the  prig  to  forsake  the  methods  of  acquiring  a 
safe,  an  honest,  and  a  plentiful  livelihood,  and,  at  the 
hazard  of  even  life  itself,  and  what  is  mista kingly  called 
dishonor,  to  break  openly  and  bravely  through  the  laws 
of  his  country,  for  uncertain,  unsteady,  and  unsafe  gain  ? 
Let  me  then  hold  myself  contented  with  this  reflection, 
that  I  have  been  wise  though  unsuccessful,  and  am  a 
great  though  an  unhappy  man." 

His  soliloquy  and  his  punch  concluded  together ;  for  he 
had  at  every  pause  comforted  himself  with  a  sip.    And 


68  JONATHAN  WILD. 

now  it  came  first  into  his  head  that  it  would  he  more  dif- 
ficult to  pay  for  it  than  it  was  to  swallow  it ;  when,  to 
his  great  pleasure,  he  heheld  at  another  corner  of  the 
room  one  of  the  gentlemen  whom  he  had  employed  in  the 
attack  on  Heartfree,  and  who,  he  doubted  not,  would 
readily  lend  him  a  guinea  or  two ;  hut  he  had  the  morti- 
fication, on  applying  to  him,  to  hear  that  the  gaming- 
table had  stripped  him  of  all  the  bootv  which  his  own 
generosity  had  left  in  his  possession.  He  was  therefore 
obliged  to  pursue  his  usual  method  on  such  occasions : 
so,  cocking  his  hat  fiercely,  he  inarched  out  of  the  room 
without  making  any  excuse  or  any  one  daring  to  make 
the  least  demand. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Containing  many  surjwising  adventures,  tvhich  our  hero,  with  great 

greatness,  achieved. 

We  will  now  leave  our  hero  to  take  a  short  repose,  and 
return  to  Mr.  Snap's,  where  at  Wild's  departure,  the  fair 
Theodosia  had  again  betaken  herself  to  her  stocking,  and 
Miss  Letty  had  retired  upstairs  to  Mr.  Bagshot ;  but  that 
gentleman  had  broken  his  parole,  and,  having  conveyed 
himself  below  stairs  behind  a  door,  he  took  the  oppor- 
tunity of  Wild's  sally  to  make  his  escape.  We  shall  only 
observe  that  Miss  Letty 's  surprise  was  the  greater,  as 
she  had,  notwithstanding  her  promise  to  the  contrary, 
taken  the  precaution  to  turn  the  key  ;  but,  in  her  hurry, 
she  did  it  ineffectually.  How  wretched  must  have  been 
the  situation  of  this  young  creature,  who  had  onl}r  lost  a 
lover  on  whom  her  tender  heart  perfectly  doted,  but  was 
exposed  to  the  rage  of  an  injured  father,  tenderly  jealous 
of  his  honor,  which  was  deeply  engaged  to  the  sheriff  of 
London  and  Middlesex  for  the  safe  custody  of  the  said 
Bagshot,  and  for  which  two  very  good  responsible  friends 
had  given  not  only  their  words  but  their  bonds. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  69 

But  let  us  remove  our  eyes  from  this  melancholy  ob- 
ject, and  survey  our  hero  who,  after  a  successless  search 
for  Miss  Straddle,  with  wonderful  greatness  of  mind  and 
steadiness  of  countenance  went  early  in  the  morning1  to 
visit  his  friend  Heartfree,  at  a  time  when  the  common 
herd  of  friends  would  have  forsaken  and  avoided  him.  He 
entered  the  room  with  a  cheerful  air,  which  he  presently 
changed  into  surprise  on  seeing  his  friend  in  a  nightgown, 
with  his  wounded  head  bound  about  with  linen,  and  look- 
ing extremely  pale  from  a  great  effusion  of  blood.  When 
Wild  was  informed  by  Heartfree  what  had  happened  he 
first  expressed  great  sorrow,  and  afterwards  suffered  as 
violent  agonies  of  rage  against  the  robbers  to  burst  from 
him.  Heartfree,  in  compassion  to  the  deep  impression 
his  misfortunes  seemed  to  make  on  his  friend,  endeavored 
to  lessen  it  as  much  as  possible,  at  the  same  time  exag- 
gerating the  obligation  he  owed  to  Wild,  in  which  his  wife 
likewise  seconded  him,  and  they  breakfasted  with  more 
comfort  than  was  reasonably  to  be  expected  after  such 
an  accident;  Heartfree  expressing  great  satisfaction 
that  he  had  put  the  count's  note  in  another  pocket-book  ; 
adding,  that  such  a  loss  would  have  been  fatal  to  him ;  "for 
to  confess  the  truth  to  you,  my  dear  friend,"  said  he,  "  I 
have  had  some  losses  lately  which  have  greatly  perplexed 
my  affairs ;  and  though  I  have  many  debts  due  to  me 
from  people  of  great  fashion,  I  assure  you  I  know  not 
where  to  be  certain  of  getting  a  shilling."  Wild  greatly 
felicitated  him  on  the  lucky  accident  of  preserving  his 
note,  and  then  proceeded,  with  much  acrimony,  to  inveigh 
against  the  barbarity  of  people  of  fashion,  who  kept 
tradesmen  out  of  their  money. 

While  they  amused  themselves  with  discourses  of  this 
kind,  Wild  meditating  within  himself  whether  he  should 
borrow  or  steal  from  his  friend,  or  indeed  whether  he 
could  not  effect  both,  the  apprentice  brought  a  bank- 
note of  500/.  in  to  Heartfree,  which  he  said  a  gentlewoman 
in  the  shop,  who  had  been  looking  at  some  jewels,  de- 


70  JONATHAN  WILD. 

sired  him  to  exchange.  Heartfree,  looking  at  the  num- 
ber, immediately  recollected  it  to  be  one  of  those  he  had 
been  robbed  of.  With  this  discovery  he  acquainted  Wild, 
who,  with  the  notable  presence  of  mind  and  unchanged 
complexion  so  essential  to  a  great  character,  advised  him 
to  proceed  cautiously  ;  and  offered  (as  Mr.  Heartfree  him- 
self was,  he  said,  too  much  flustered  to  examine  the 
woman  with  sufficient  art),  to  take  her  into  a  room  in  his 
house  alone.  He  would,  he  said,  personate  the  master 
of  the  shop,  would  pretend  to  show  her  some  jewels,  and 
would  undertake  to  get  sufficient  information  out  of  her 
to  secure  the  rogues,  and  most  probably  all  their  booty. 
This  proposal  was  readily  and  thankfully  accepted  by 
Heartfree.  Wild  went  immediately  upstairs  into  the 
room  appointed,  whither  the  apprentice,  according  to  ap- 
pointment, conducted  the  lady. 

The  apprentice  was  ordered  downstairs  the  moment  the 
lady  entered  the  room  ;  and  Wild,  having  shut  the  door, 
approached  her  with  great  ferocity  in  his  looks,  and  be- 
gan to  expatiate  on  the  complicated  baseness  of  the  crime 
she  had  been  guilty  of ;  but  though  he  uttered  many  good 
lessons  of  morality,  as  we  doubt  whether  from  a  particu- 
lar reason  they  may  work  any  very  good  effect  on  our 
reader,  we  shall  omit  his  speech,  and  only  mention  his 
conclusion,  which  was  by  asking  her  what  mercy  she 
could  now  expect  from  him  ?  Miss  Straddle,  for  that  was 
the  young  lady,  who  had  had  a  good  execution,  and  had 
been  more  than  once  present  at  the  Old  Bailey,  very  con- 
fidently denied  the  whole  charge,  and  said  she  had  received 
the  note  from  a  friend.  Wild  then  raising  his  voice,  told 
her  she  should  be  immediately  committed,  and  she  might 
depend  on  being  convicted ;  "but,"  added  he,  changing 
his  tone,  "  as  I  have  a  violent  affection  for  thee,  my  dear 
Straddle,  if  you  will  follow  my  advice,  I  promise  you,  on 
my  honor,  to  forgive  you,  nor  shall  you  be  ever  called  in 
question  on  this  account."—"  Why,  what  would  you  have 
me  to  do,  Mr.  Wild  ?"   replied  the  young  lady,  with  a 


JONATHAN  WILD.  71 

pleasanter  aspect. — "You  must  know  then,"  said  Wild, 
"  the  money  you  picked  out  of  my  pocket  (nay,  by  G — d 
you  did,  and  if  you  offer  to  flinch  you  shall  be  convicted  of 
it)  I  won  at  play  of  a  fellow  who  it  seems  robbed  my 
friend  of  it ;  you  must,  therefore,  give  an  information  on 
oath  against  one  Thomas  Fierce,  and  say  that  you  re- 
ceived the  note  from  him,  and  leave  the  rest  to  me.  I  am 
certain,  Molly,  3rou  must  be  sensible  of  your  obligations 
to  me,  who  return  good  for  evil  to  you  in  this  manner." 
The  lacly  readily  consented,  and  advanced  to  embrace  Mr. 
Wild,  who  stepped  a  little  back,  and  cried,  "Hold,  Molly  ; 
there  are  two  other  notes  of  200/.  each  to  be  accounted 
for — where  are  they  ?"  The  lady  protested  with  the  most 
solemn  asseverations  that  she  knew  of  no  more  ;  with 
which,  when  Wild  was  not  satisfied,  she  cried,  "  I  will 
stand  search." — "That  you  shall,"  answered  Wild,  "  and 
stand  strip  too."  He  then  proceeded  to  tumble  and  search 
her,  but  to  no  purpose,  till  at  last  she  burst  into  tears, 
and  declared  she  would  tell  the  truth  (as  indeed  she  did) ; 
she  then  confessed  that  she  had  disposed  of  the  one  to 
Jack  Swagger,  a  great  favorite  of  the  ladies,  being  an 
Irish  gentleman,  who  had  been  bred  clerk  to  an  attorney, 
afterwards  whipped  out  of  a  regiment  of  dragoons,  and 
was  then  a  Newgate  solicitor,  and  a  bawdyhouse  bully  ; 
and,  as  for  the  other,  she  had  laid  it  all  out  that  very 
morning  in  brocaded  silks  and  Flanders  lace.  With  this 
account  Wild,  who  indeed  knew  it  to  be  a  very  probable 
one,  was  forced  to  be  contented ;  and  now,  abandoning 
all  further  thoughts  of  what  he  saw  was  irretrievably 
lost,  he  gave  the  lady  some  further  instructions,  and  then, 
desiring  her  to  stay  a  few  minutes  behind  him,  he  re- 
turned to  his  friend,  and  acquainted  him  that  he  had  dis- 
covered the  whole  roguery  ;  that  the  woman  had  confessed 
from  whom  she  had  received  the  note,  and  promised  to 
give  an  information  before  a  justice  of  peace  ;  adding,  he 
was  concerned  he  could  not  attend  him  thither,  being 
obliged  to  go  to  the  other  end  of  the  town  to  receive  thirty 


T2  JONATHAN  WILD. 

pounds,  which  he  was  to  pay  that  evening-.  Heartfree 
said  that  should  not  prevent  him  of  his  company,  for  he 
could  easily  lend  him  such  a  trifle.  This  was  accordingly 
done  and  accepted,  and  Wild,  Heartfree,  and  the  lady 
went  to  the  justice  together. 

The  warrant  being  granted,  and  the  constable  being 
acquainted  by  the  lady,  who  received  her  information 
from  Wild,  of  Mr.  Fierce's  haunts,  he  was  easily  appre- 
hended, and,  being  confronted  with  Miss  Straddle,  who 
swore  positively  to  him,  though  she  had  never  seen  him 
before,  he  was  committed  to  Newgate,  where  he  immedi- 
ately conveyed  an  information  to  Wild  of  what  had  hap- 
pened, and  in  the  evening  received  a  visit  from  him. 

Wild  affected  great  concern  for  his  friend's  misfortune, 
and  as  great  surprise  at  the  means  by  which  it  was 
brought  about.  However,  he  told  Fierce  that  he  must 
certainly  be  mistaken  in  that  point  of  his  having  had  no 
acquaintance  with  Miss  Straddle ;  but  added  that  he 
would  find  her  out,  and  endeavor  to  take  off  her  evidence, 
which,  he  observed,  did  not  come  home  enough  to  endan- 
ger him ;  besides,  he  would  secure  him  witnesses  of  an 
alibi,  and  five  or  six  to  his  character ;  so  that  he  need 
be  under  no  apprehension,  for  his  confinement  till  the 
sessions  would  be  his  only  punishment. 

Fierce,  who  was  greatly  comforted  by  these  assurances 
of  his  friend,  returned  him  man}'  thanks,  and,  both  shak- 
ing each  other  very  earnestly  by  the  hand,  with  a  very 
hearty  embrace  they  separated. 

The  hero  considered  with  himself  that  the  single  evi- 
dence of  Miss  Straddle  would  not  be  sufficient  to  convict 
Fierce,  whom  he  resolved  to  hang,  as  he  was  the  person 
who  had  principally  refused  to  deliver  him  the  stip- 
ulated share  of  the  booty ;  he  therefore  went  in  quest  of 
Mr.  James  Sly,  the  gentleman  who  had  assisted  him  in 
the  exploit,  and  found  and  acquainted  him  with  the  appre- 
hending of  Fierce.  Wild  then,  intimating  his  fear  lest 
F    fee  should  impeach  Sly,  advised  him  to  be  beforehand, 


JONATHAN  WILD.  73 

to  surrender  himself  to  a  justice  of  the  peace  and  offer 
himself  as  an  evidence.  Sly  approved  Mr.  Wild's  opinion, 
went  directly  to  a  magistrate,  and  was  hy  him  commit- 
ted to  the  Gate-house,  with  a  promise  of  being-  admitted 
evidence  against  his  companion. 

Fierce  was  in  a  few  days  brought  to  his  trial  at  the 
Old  Bailey,  where,  to  his  great  confusion,  his  old  friend 
Sly  appeared  against  him,  as  did  Miss  Straddle.  His 
only  hopes  were  now  in  the  assistances  which  our  hero 
had  promised  him.  These  unhappily  failed  him :  so 
that,  the  evidence  being  plain  against  him,  and  he  making 
no  defense,  the  jury  convicted  him,  the  court  condemned 
him,  and  Mr.  Ketch  executed  him. 

With  such  infinite  address  did  this  truly  great  man 
know  how  to  play  with  the  passions  of  men,  to  set  them 
at  variance  with  each  other,  and  to  work  his  own  pur- 
poses out  of  those  jealousies  and  apprehensions  which  he 
was  wonderfully  ready  at  creating  by  means  of  those 
great  arts  which  the  vulgar  call  treachery,  dissembling, 
promising,  lying,  falsehood,  etc.,  but  which  are  by  great 
men  summed  up  in  the  collective  name  of  policy,  or 
politics,  or  rather  pollitrics ;  an  art  of  which,  as  it  is 
the  highest  excellence  of  human  nature,  perhaps  our 
great  man  was  the  most  eminent  master. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Of  hats. 
Wild  had  now  got  together  a  very  considerable  gang, 
composed  of  undone  gamesters,  ruined  bailiffs,  broken 
tradesmen,  idle  apprentices,  attorneys'  clerks,  and  loose 
and  disorderly  youth,  who,'  being  born  to  no  fortune,  nor 
bred  to  any  trade  or  profession,  were  willing  to  live  lux- 
uriously without  labor.  As  these  persons  wore  different 
principles,!,  e.,  hats,  frequent  dissensions  grew  among 
them.     There  were  particularly  two  parties,  viz.:  those 


74  JONATHAN  WILD. 

who  wore  hats  fiercely  cocked,  and  those  who  preferred 
the  nab  or  trencher  hat,  with  the  brim  flapping  over 
their  eyes.  The  former  were  called  cavaliers  and  tory 
rory  ranter  boys,  etc.;  the  latter  went  by  the  several 
names  of  wags,  roundheads,  shakebags,  oldnolls,  and 
several  others.  Between  these  continual  jars  arose,  inso- 
much that  they  grew  in  time  to  think  there  was  some- 
thing essential  in  their  differences,  and  that  their  inter- 
ests were  incompatible  with  each  other,  whereas,  in  truth, 
the  difference  lay  only  in  the  fashion  of  their  hats.  Wild, 
therefore,  having  assembled  them  all  at  an  alehouse  on 
the  night  after  Fierce's  execution,  and  perceiving  evident 
marks  of  their  misunderstanding,  from  their  behavior  to 
each  other,  addressed  them  in  the  following  gentle,  but 
forcible  manner :  *  "  Gentlemen,  I  am  ashamed  to  see 
men  embarked  in  so  great  and  glorious  an  undertaking 
as  that  of  robbing  the  public,  so  foolishly  and  weakly 
dissenting  among  themselves.  Do  you  think  the  first 
inventors  of  hats,  or  at  least  of  the  distinctions  between 
them,  really  conceived  that  one  form  of  hats  should 
inspire  a  man  with  divinity,  another  with  law,  another 
with  learning,  or  another  with  bravery  ?  No,  they  meant 
no  more  by  these  outward  signs  than  to  impose  on  the 
vulgar,  and,  instead  of  putting  great  men  to  the  trouble 
of  acquiring  or  maintaining  the  substance,  to  make  it 
sufficient  that  they  condescend  to  wear  the  type  or  shadow 
of  it.     You    do   wisely,   therefore,  when  in  a  crowd,  to 

*  There  is  something  very  mysterious  in  this  speech,  which  probably  that 
chapter  written  by  Aristotle  on  this  subject,  which  is  mentioned  by  a  French 
author,  might  have  given  some  light  into;  but  that  is  unhappily  among  the  lost 
works  of  that  philosopher.  It  is  remarkable  that  galerus,  which  is  Latin  for  a 
hat,  signifies  likewise  a  dog-fish,  as  the  Greek  word  kuven  doth  the  skin  of  that 
animal;  of  which  I  suppose  the  hats  or  helmets  of  the  ancients  were  composed, 
as  ours  at  present  are  of  the  beaver  or  rabbit.  Sophocles,  in  the  latter  end  of 
his  Ajax,  alludes  to  a  method  of  cheating  in  hats,  and  the  scholiast  on  the  place 
tells  us  of  one  Crephonates,  who  was  a  master  of  the  art.  It  is  observable  likewise 
that  Achilles,  in  the  first  Iliad  of  Homer,  -tells  Agamemnon,  in  anger,  that  he 
had  dog's  eyes.  Now,  as  the  eyes  of  a  dog  are  handsomer  than  those  of  almost 
any  other  animal,  this  could  be  no  term  of  reproach.  He  must  therefore  mean 
that  he  had  a  hat  on,  which,  perhaps,  from  the  creature  it  was  made  of,  or 
from  some  other  reason,  might  have  been  a  mark  of  infamy.  This  supersti- 
tious opinion  may  account  for  that  custom,  which  hath  descended  through  all 
nations,  of  showing  respect  by  pulling  off  this  covering,  and  that  no  man  is 
esteemed  fit  to  converse  with  his  superiors  with  it  on.  I  shall  conclude  this 
learned  note  with  remarking  that  the  term  old  hat  is  at  present  used  by  tha 
vulgar  in  no  very  honorable  sense. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  75 

amuse  the  mob  by  quarrels  on  such  accounts,  that  while 
they  are  listening-  to  your  jargon  you  may  with  the 
greater  ease  and  safety  pick  their  pockets  :  but  surely 
to  be  in  earnest,  and  privately  to  keep  up  such  a  ridic- 
ulous contention  among  yourselves,  must  argue  the  high- 
est folly  and  absurdity.  When  you  know  you  are  all 
prigs  what  difference  can  a  broad  or  a  narrow  brim  cre- 
ate? Is  a  prig  less  a  prig  in  one  hat  than  in  another  ? 
If  the  public  should  be  weak  enough  to  interest  them- 
selves in  your  quarrels,  and  to  prefer  one  pack  to  the 
other,  while  both  are  aiming  at  their  purses,  it  is  your 
business  to  laugh  at,  not  imitate  their  folly.  What  can 
be  more  ridiculous  than  for  gentlemen  to  quarrel  about 
hats,  when  there  is  not  one  among  you  whose  hat  is  worth 
a  farthing  ?  What  is  the  use  of  a  hat  farther  than  to 
keep  the  head  warm,  or  to  hide  a  bald  crown  from  the 
public  ?  It  is  the  mark  of  a  gentleman  to  move  his  hat 
on  every  occasion ;  and  in  courts  and  noble  assemblies  no 
man  ever  wears  one.  Let  me  hear  no  more  therefore  of 
this  childish  disagreement,  but  all  toss  up  your  hats 
together  with  one  accord,  and  consider  that  hat  as  the 
best,  which  will  contain  the  largest  booty."  He  thus 
ended  his  speech,  which  was  followed  by  a  murmuring 
applause,  and  immediate^  all  present  tossed  their  hats 
together  as  he  had  commanded  them. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Showing  the  consequence  ivhich  attended  Heartfree's  adventures 
with  Wild;  all  natural  and  common  enough  to  little  wretches 
who  deal  with  great  men,  together  with  some  precedents  of  let- 
ters, being  the  different  methods  of  answering  a  dun. 

Let  us  now  return  to  Heartfree,  to  whom  the  count's 
note,  which  he  had  paid  away,  was  returned,  with  an  ac- 
count that  the  drawer  was  not  to  be  found,  and  that,  on 
inquiring  after  him,  they  had  heard  he  was  run  away, 


76  JONATHAN  WILD. 

and  consequently  the  money  was  now  demanded  of  the 
endorser.  The  apprehension  of  such  a  loss  would  have 
affected  any  man  of  business,  but  much  more  one  whose 
unavoidable  ruin  it  must  prove.  He  expressed  so  much 
concern  and  confusion  on  this  occasion,  that  the  proprie- 
tor of  the  note  was  frightened,  and  resolved  to  lose  no 
time  in  securing-  what  he  could.  So  that  in  the  afternoon 
of  the  same  day  Mr.  Snap  was  commissioned  to  pay 
Heartfree  a  visit,  which  he  did  with  his  usual  formality, 
and  conveyed  him  to  his  own  house. 

Mrs.  Heartfree  was  no  sooner  informed  of  what  had 
happened  to  her  husband  than  she  raved  like  one  dis- 
tracted ;  but  after  she  had  vented  the  first  agonies  of  her 
passion  in  tears  and  lamentations  she  applied  herself  to 
all  possible  means  to  procure  her  husband's  liberty.  She 
hastened  to  beg-  her  neighbors  to  secure  bail  for  him. 
But,  as  the  news  had  arrived  at  their  houses  before  her, 
she  found  none  of  them  at  home,  except  an  honest  quaker, 
whose  servants  durst  not  tell  a  lie.  However,  she  suc- 
ceeded no  better  with  him,  for  unluckily  he  had  made  an 
affirmation  the  day  before  that  he  would  never  be  bail  for 
any  man.  After  many  fruitless  efforts  of  this  kind  she 
repaired  to  her  husband,  to  comfort  him  at  least  with 
her  presence.  She  found  him  sealing  the  last  of  several 
letters,  which  he  was  dispatching  to  his  friends  and  cred- 
itors. The  moment  he  saw  her  a  sudden  joy  sparkled  in 
his  eyes,  which,  however,  had  a  very  short  duration ;  for 
despair  soon  closed  them  again ;  nor  could  he  help  burst- 
ing into  some  passionate  expressions  of  concern  for  her 
and  his  little  family,  which  she,  on  her  part,  did  her  ut- 
most to  lessen,  by  endeavoring  to  mitigate  the  loss,  and 
to  raise  in  him  hopes  from  the  count,  who  might,  she 
said,  be  possibly  only  gone  into  the  country.  She  com- 
forted him  likewise  with  the  expectation  of  favor  from 
his  acquaintance,  especially  from  those  whom  he  had  in  a 
particular  manner  obliged  and  served.  Lastly,  she  con- 
jured him,  by  all  the  value  and  esteem  he  professed  for 


JONATHAN  WILD.  77 

her,  not  to  endanger  his  health,  on  which  alone  depended 
her  happiness,  by  too  great  an  indulgence  of  grief  ;  assur- 
ing him  that  no  state  of  life  could  appear  unhappy  to  her 
with  him,  unless  his  own  sorrow  or  discontent  made 
it  so. 

In  this  manner  did  this  weak,  poor-spirited  woman 
attempt  to  relieve  her  husband's  pains,  which  it  would 
have  rather  become  her  to  aggravate,  by  not  only  paint- 
ing out  his  misery  in  the  liveliest  colors  imaginable,  but 
by  upbraiding  him  with  that  folly  and  confidence  which 
had  occasioned  it,  and  by  lamenting  her  own  hard  fate  in 
being  obliged  to  share  his  sufferings. 

Heartfree  returned  this  goodness  (as  it  is  called)  of  his 
wife  with  the  warmest  gratitude,  and  they  passed  an 
hour  in  a  scene  of  tenderness  too  low  and  contemptible  to 
be  recounted  to  our  great  readers.  We  shall  therefore 
omit  all  such  relations,  as  they  tend  only  to  make  human 
nature  low  and  ridiculous. 

Those  messengers  who  had  obtained  any  answers  to 
his  letters  now  returned.  We  shall  here  copy  a  few  of 
them,  as  they  may  serve  for  precedents  to  others  who 
have  an  occasion,  which  happens  commonly  enough  in 
genteel  life,  to  answer  the  impertinence  of  a  dun. 

Letter  I. 
Mr.  Heartfree, — 

My  lord  commands  me  to  tell  you  he  is  very  much  surprised 
at  your  assurance  in  asking  for  money  which  you  know  hath  been 
so  little  while  due  ;  however,  as  he  intends  to  deal  no  longer  at 
your  shop,  he  hath  ordered  me  to  pay  you  as  soon  as  I  shall  have 
cash  in  hand,  which,  considering  many  disbursements  for  bills 
long  due,  etc.,  can't  possibly  promise  anytime,  etc. ,  at  ^present. 
And  am  your  humble  servant, 

Roger  Morecraft. 

Letter  II. 
Dear  Sir, — 

The  money,  as  you  truly  say,  hath  been  three  years  due, 
but  upon  my  soul  I  am  at  present  incapable  of  paying  a  farthing  ; 
but,  as  I  doubt  not,  very  shortly,  not  only  to  content  that  small 


78  JONATHAN  WILD. 

bill,  but  likewise  to  lay  out  very  considerable  further  sums  at  your 
house,  hope  you  will  meet  with  no  inconvenience  by  this  short  de- 
lay in,  dear  sir,  your  most  sincere  humble  servant, 

Cha.  Courtly. 

Letter  III. 
Mr.  Heartfree, — 

I  beg  you  would  not  acquaint  my  husband  of  the  trifling 
debt  between  us;  for,  as  I  know  you  to  be  a  very  good-natured 
man,  I  will  trust  you  with  a  secret ;  he  gave  me  the  money  long 
since  to  discharge  it,  which  I  had  the  ill-luck  to  lose  at  play.  You 
may  be  assured  I  will  satisfy  you  the  first  opportunity,  and  am,  sir, 
your  very  humble  servant, 

Cath.  Rubbers. 
Please  to  present  my  compliments  to  Mrs.  Heartfree. 

Letter  IV. 

Mr.  Thomas  Heartfree,  Sir, — 

Yours  received  ;  but  as  to  sum  mentioned  therein,  doth 
not  suit  at  present.     Your  humble  servant, 

Peter  Pounce. 

Letter  V. 
Sir,— 

I  am  sincerely  sorry  it  is  not  at  present  possible  for  me  to 
comply  with  your  request,  especially  after  so  many  obligations 
received  on  my  side,  of  which  I  shall  always  entertain  the  most 
grateful  memory.  I  am  very  greatly  concerned  at  your  misfor- 
tunes, and  would  have  wraited  upon  you  in  person,  but  am  not  at 
present  very  well,  and  besides  am  obliged  to  go  this  evening  to 
Vauxhall.     I  am,  sir,  your  most  obliged  humble  servant, 

Chas.  Easy. 
P.  S. — I  hope  good  Mrs.   Heartfree  and  the  dear  little  ones 
are  well. 

There  were  more  letters  to  much  the  same  purpose  ; 
but  we  proposed  giving-  our  reader  a  taste  only.  Of  all 
these,  the  last  was  infinitely  the  most  grating  to  poor 
Heartfree,  as  it  came  from  one  to  whom,  when  in  dis- 
tress, he  had  himself  lent  a  considerable  sum,  and  of 
whose  present  flourishing  circumstances  he  was  well  as- 
sured. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  79 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

In  which  our  hero  carries  greatness  to  an  immoderate  height. 

Let  us  remove,  therefore,  as  fast  as  we  can,  this  detest- 
able picture  of  ingratitude,  and  present  the  much  more 
agreeable  portrait  of  that  assurance  to  which  the  French 
very  properly  annex  the  epithet  of  good.  Heartfree  had 
scarce  done  reading  his  letters  when  our  hero  appeared 
before  his  eyes ;  not  with  that  aspect  with  which  a  pitiful 
parson  meets  his  patron  after  having  opposed  him  at  an 
election,  or  which  a  doctor  wears  when  sneaking  away 
from  a  door  where  he  is  informed  of  his  patient's  death; 
not  with  that  downcast  countenance  which  betrays  the 
man  who,  after  a  strong  conflict  between  virtue  and  vice, 
hath  surrendered  his  mind  to  the  latter,  and  is  discovered 
in  his  first  treachery;  but  with  that  noble,  bold,  great 
confidence  with  which  a  prime  minister  assures  his  de- 
pendent that  the  place  he  promised  him  was  disposed  of 
before.  And  such  concern  and  uneasiness  as  he  expresses 
in  his  looks  on  those  occasions  did  Wild  testify  on  the 
first  meeting  of  his  friend.  And  as  the  said  prime  minis- 
ter chides  you  for  neglect  of  your  interest  in  not  having 
asked  in  time,  so  did  our  hero  attack  Heartfree  for  his 
giving  credit  to  the  count;  and,  without  suffering  him  to 
make  any  answer,  proceeded  in  a  torrent  of  words  to 
overwhelm  him  with  abuse,  which,  however  friendly  its 
intention  might  be,  was  scarce  to  be  outdone  by  an 
enemy.  By  these  means  Heartfree,  who  might  per- 
haps otherwise  have  vented  some  little  concern 
for  that  recommendation  which  Wild  had  given 
him  to  the  count,  was  totally  prevented  from 
any  such  endeavor;  and,  like  an  invading  prince, 
when  attacked  in  his  own  dominions,  forced  to  recall  his 
■whole  strength  to  defend  himself  at  home.  This  indeed 
he  did  so  well,  by  insisting  on  the  figure  and  outward 


80  JONATHAN  WILD. 

appea  ranee  of  the  count  and  his  equipage,  that  Wild  at 
length  grew  a  little  more  gentle,  and  with  a  sigh  said, 
"I  confess  I  have  the  least  reason  of  all  mankind  to  cen- 
sure another  for  an  imprudence  of  this  nature,  as  I  am 
myself  the  most  easy  to  he  imposed  upon,  and  indeed 
have  been  so  by  this  count,  who,  if  he  be  insolvent,  hath 
cheated  me  of  five  hundred  pounds.  But,  for  my  own 
part,"  said  he,  "I  will  not  yet  despair,  nor  would  I  have 
3^ou.  Many  men  have  found  it  convenient  to  retire  or  ab- 
scond for  a  while,  and  afterwards  have  paid  their  debts, 
or  at  least  handsomely  compounded  them.  This  I  am 
certain  of,  should  a  composition  take  place,  which  is  the 
worst  I  think  that  can  be  apprehended,  I  shall  be  the  only 
loser;  for  I  shall  think  myself  obliged  in  honor  to  repair 
your  loss,  even  though  you  must  confess  it  was  principally 
owing  to  your  own  folly.  Z — ds  !  had  I  imagined  it 
necessary,  I  would  have  cautioned  you,  but  I  thought  the 
part  of  the  town  where  he  lived  sufficient  caution  not  to 

trust  him.     And  such  a  sum! The  devil  must  have 

been  in  you  certainly!" 

This  was  a  degree  of  impudence  beyond  poor  Mrs. 
Heartfree's  imagination.  Though  she  had  before  vented 
the  most  violent  execrations  on  Wild,  she  was  now 
thoroughly  satisfied  of  his  innocence,  and  begged  him  not 
to  insist  any  longer  on  what  he  perceived  so  deeply 
affected  her  husband.  She  said  trade  could  not  be  car- 
ried on  without  credit,  and  surely  he  was  sufficiently  jus- 
tified in  giving  it  to  such  a  person  as  the  count  appeared 
to  be.  Besides,  she  said,  reflections  on  what  was  past 
and  irretrievable  would  be  of  little  service;  that  their 
present  business  was  to  consider  how  to  prevent  the  evil 
consequences  which  threatened,  and  firs  tto  endeavor  to 
procure  her  husband  his  liberty.  "Why  doth  he  not  pro- 
cure bail?"  said  Wild. — ''Alas!  sir!"  said  she,  "we  have 
applied  to  many  of  our  acquaintance  in  vain;  we  have  met 
with  excuses  even  where  we  could  least  expect  them." — 
"Not  bail!"  answered  Wild,  in  a  passion;  "he  shall  have 


JONATHAN  WILD.  81 

bail,  if  there  is  any  in  the  world.  It  is  now  very  late,  but 
trust  me  to  procure  him  bail  to-morrow  morning"." 

Mrs.  Heartfree  received  these  professions  with  tears, 
and  told  Wild  he  was  a  friend  indeed.  She  then  proposed 
to  stay  that  evening-  with  her  husband,  but  he  would  not 
permit  her  on  account  of  his  little  family,  whom  he  would 
not  agree  to  trust  to  the  care  of  servants  in  this  time  of 
confusion. 

A  hackney-coach  was  then  sent  for,  but  without  success; 
for  these,  like  hackney-friends,  always  offer  themselves  in 
the  sunshine,  but  are  never  to  be  found  when  you  want 
them.  And  as  for  a  chair,  Mr  Snap  lived  in  a  part  of  the 
town  which  chairmen  very  little  frequent.  The  good 
woman  was  therefore  obliged  to  walk  home,  whither  the 
gallant  Wild  offered  to  attend  her  as  a  protector.  This 
favor  was  thankfully  accepted,  and,  the  husband  and 
wife  having  taken  a  tender  leave  of  each  other,  the  for- 
mer was  locked  in  and  the  latter  locked  out  by  the  hands 
of  Mr.  Snap  himself. 

As  this  visit  of  Mr.  Wild's  to  Heartfree  may  seem  one 
of  those  passages  in  history  which  writers,  Drawcansir- 
like,  introduce  only  because  they  dare;  indeed,  as  it  may 
seem  somewhat  contradictory  to  the  greatness  of  our 
hero,  and  may  tend  to  blemish  his  character  with  an  im- 
putation of  that  kind  of  friendship  which  savors  too 
much  of  weakness  and  imprudence,  it  may  be  necessary 
to  account  for  this  visit,  especially  to  our  more  sagacious 
readers,  whose  satisfaction  we  shall  always  consult  in  the 
most  especial  manner.  They  are  to  know  then  that  at 
the  first  interview  with  Mrs.  Heartfree  Mr.  Wild  had  con- 
ceived that  passion,  or  affection,  or  friendship,  or  desire, 
for  that  handsome  creature,  which  the  gentlemen  of  this 
our  age  agreed  to  call  love  and  which  is  indeed  no  other 
than  that  kind  of  affection  which,  after  the  exercise  of  the 
dominical  day  is  over,  a  lusty  divine  is  apt  to  conceive  for 
the  well-dressed  sirloin  or  handsome  buttock  which  the 
well-edified  squire  in  gratitude  sets  before  him,  and  which, 


82  JONATHAN  WILD. 

so  violent  is  his  love,  he  devours  in  imagination  the 
moment  he  sees  it.  Not  less  ardent  was  the  hungry  pas- 
sion of  our  hero,  who,  from  the  moment  he  had  cast  his 
eyes  on  that  charming1  dish,  had  cast  about  in  his  mind 
by  what  method  he  might  come  at  it.  This,  as  he  per- 
ceived, might  most  easily  be  effected  after  the  ruin  of 
Heartfree,  which,  for  other  considerations,  he  had  in- 
tended. So  he  postponed  all  endeavors  for  this  purpose 
till  he  had  first  effected  what,  by  order  of  time,  was  regu- 
larly to  precede  this  latter  design;  with  such  regularity 
did  this  our  hero  conduct  all  his  schemes,  and  so  truly 
superior  was  he  to  all  the  efforts  of  passion,  which  so 
often  disconcert  and  disappoint  the  noblest  views  of 
others. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

More  greatness  in  Wild.  A  low  scene  between  Mrs.  Heartfree  and 
her  children,  and  a  scheme  of  our  hero  worthy  the  highest  ad- 
miration, and  even  astonishment. 

When  first  Wild  conducted  his  flame  (or  rather  his 
dish,  to  continue  our  metaphore)  from  the  proprietor,  he 
had  projected  a  design  of  conveying  her  to  one  of  those 
eating-houses  in  Co  vent  Garden,  where  female  flesh  is 
deliciously  dressed  and  served  up  to  the  greedy  appetites 
of  young  gentlemen  ;  but,  fearing  lest  she  should  not 
come  readily  enough  into  his  wishes,  and  that,  by  too 
eager  and  hasty  a  pursuit,  he  should  frustrate  his  future 
expectations,  and  luckily  at  the  same  time  a  noble  hint 
suggesting  itself  to  him  by  which  he  might  almost  inev- 
itably secure  his  pleasure,  together  with  his  profit,  he 
contented  himself  with  waiting  on  Mrs.  Heartfree  home, 
and,  after  many  protestations  of  friendship  and  service  to 
her  husband,  took  his  leave,  and  promised  to  visit  her 
early  in  the  morning,  and  to  conduct  her  back  to  Mr. 
Snap's. 


JONATHAN   WILD.  83 

"Wild  now  retired  to  a  night- cellar,  where  he  found  sev- 
eral of  his  acquaintance,  with  whom  he  spent  the  remain- 
ing' part  of  the  night  in  revelling  ;  nor  did  the  least  com- 
passion for  Heartfree's  misfortunes  disturb  the  pleasure 
of  his  cups.  So  truly  great  was  his  soul  that  it  was  ab- 
solutely composed,  save  that  an  apprehension  of  Miss 
Tishy's  making  some  discovery  (as  she  was  then  in  no 
good  temper  towards  him)  a  little  ruffled  and  disquieted 
the  perfect  serenity  he  would  otherwise  have  enjoyed.  As 
he  had,  therefore,  no  opportunity  of  seeing  her  that  eve- 
ning, he  wrote  her  a  letter  full  of  ten  thousand  protesta- 
tions of  honorable  love,  and  (which  he  more  depended  on) 
containing  as  many  promises,  in  order  to  bring  the  young 
lady  into  good  humor,  without  acquainting  her  in  the 
least  with  his  suspicion,  or  giving  her  any  caution  ;  for  it 
was  his  constant  maxim  never  to  put  it  into  any  one's  head 
to  do  you  a  mischief  by  acquainting  him  that  it  is  in  his 
power. 

We  must  now  return  to  Mrs.  Heartfree,  who  passed  a 
sleepless  night  in  as  great  agonies  and  horror  for  the  ab- 
sence of  her  husband  as  a  fine  well-bred  woman  would 
feel  at  the  return  of  hers  from  a  long  voyage  or  jour- 
ney. In  the  morning  the  children  being  brought  to  her, 
the  eldest  asked  where  dear  papa  was  ?  at  which  she 
could  not  refrain  from  bursting  into  tears.  The  child, 
perceiving  it,  said,  "Don't  cry,  mamma;  I  am  sure 
papa  would  not  stay  abroad  if  he  could  help  it."  At 
these  words  she  caught  the  child  in  her  arms,  and, 
throwing  herself  into  the  chair  in  an  agony  of  passion, 
cried  out  "No,  my  child  ;  nor  shall  all  the  malice  of  hell 
keep  us  long  asunder." 

These  are  circumstances  which  we  should  not,  for  the 
amusement  of  six  or  seven  readers  only,  have  inserted, 
had  they  not  served  to  show  that  there  are  weaknesses 
in  vulgar  life  to  which  great  minds  are  so  entirely 
strangers  that  they  have  not  even  an  idea  of  them; 
and,  secondty,  by  exposing  the  folly  of  this  low  creature, 


84  JONATHAN  WILD. 

to  set  off  and  elevate  that  greatness  of  which  we  endeavor 
to  draw  a  true  portrait  in  this  history. 

"Wild,  entering  the  room,  found  the  mother  with  one 
child  in  her  arms,  and  the  other  at  her  knee.  After  pay- 
ing her  his  compliments,  he  desired  her  to  dismiss  the 
children  and  servant,  for  that  he  had  something  of  the 
greatest  moment  to  impart  to  her. 

She  immediately  complied  with  his  request,  and,  the 
door  being  shut,  asked  him  with  great  eagerness  if  he 
had  succeeded  in  his  intentions  of  procuring  the  bail.  He 
answered  he  had  not  endeavored  at  it  yet,  for  a  scheme 
had  entered  into  his  head  by  which  she  might  certainly 
preserve  her  husband,  herself,  and  her  family.  In  order 
to  which  he  advised  her  instantly  to  remove  with  the  most 
valuable  jewels  she  had  to  Holland,  before  any  statute  of 
bankruptcy  issued  to  prevent  her;  that  he  would  himself 
attend  her  thither  and  place  her  in  safety,  and  then  re- 
turn to  deliver  her  husband,  who  would  be  thus  easily 
able  to  satisfy  his  creditors.  He  added  that  he  was  that 
instant  come  from  Snap's,  where  he  had  communicated 
the  scheme  to  Heartfree,  who  had  greatly  approved  of 
it,  and  desired  her  to  put  it  in  execution  without  delay, 
concluding  that  a  moment  was  not  to  be  lost. 

The  mention  of  her  husband's  approbation  left  no  doubt 
i-n  this  poor  woman's  breast;  she  only  desired  a  moment's 
time  to  pay  him  a  visit  in  order  to  take  her  leave.  But 
Wild  peremptorily  refused ;  he  said  by  every  moment's 
delay  she  risked  the  ruin  of  her  family;  that  she  would 
be  absent  only  a  few  days  from  him,  for  that  the  moment 
he  had  lodged  her  safe  in  Holland  he  would  return,  pro- 
cure her  husband  his  liberty,  and  bring  him  to  her.  "  I 
have  been  the  unfortunate,  the  innocent  cause  of  all  my 
dear  Tom's  calamity,  madam,"  said  he,  "and  I  will 
perish  with  him  or  see  him  out  of  it."  Mrs.  Heartfree 
overflowed  with  acknowledgments  of  his  goodness,  but 
still  begged  for  the  shortest  interview  with  her  husband. 
Wild  declared  that  a  minute's  delay  might  be  fatal;  and 


JONATHAN  WILD.  85 

added,  though  with  the  voice  of  sorrow  rather  than  of 
anger,  that  if  she  had  not  resolution  enough  to  execute 
the  commands  he  brought  her  from  her  husband,  his 
ruin  would  lie  at  her  door ;  and,  for  his  own  part,  he 
must  give  up  any  farther  meddling  in  his  affairs. 

She  then  proposed  to  take  her  children  with  her  ;  but 
Wild  would  not  permit  it,  saying  they  would  only  retard 
their  flight,  and  that  it  would  be  properer  for  her  hus- 
band to  bring  them.  He  at  length  absolutely  prevailed 
on  this  poor  woman,  who  immediately  packed  up  the 
most  valuable  effects  she  could  find,  and,  after  taking  a 
tender  leave  of  her  infants,  earnestly  recommended  them 
to  the  care  of  a  very  faithful  servant.  Then  they  called 
a  hackney-coach,  which  conveyed  them  to  an  inn,  where 
they  were  furnished  with  a  chariot  and  six,  in  which 
they  set  forward  for  Harwich. 

Wild  rode  with  an  exulting  heart,  secure,  as  he  now 
thought  himself,  of  the  possession  of  that  lovely  woman, 
together  with  a  rich  cargo.  In  short,  he  enjoyed  in  his 
mind  all  the  happiness  which  unbridled  lust  and  rapa- 
cious avarice  could  promise  him.  As  to  the  poor  crea- 
ture who  was  to  satisfy  these  passions,  her  whole  soul 
was  employed  in  reflecting  on  the  condition  of  her  hus- 
band and  children.  A  single  word  scarce  escaped  her 
lips,  though  many  a  tear  gushed  from  her  brilliant  eyes, 
which,  if  I  may  use  a  coarse  expression,  served  only  as 
delicious  sauce  to  heighten  the  appetite  of  Wild. 


CHAPTER  X. 

Sea-adventures  very  new  and  surprising. 

When  they  arrived  at  Harwich  they  found  a  vessel, 
which  had  put  in  there,  just  ready  to  depart  for  Rotter- 
dam. So  they  went  immediately  on  board,  and  sailed 
with  a  fair  wind;  but  they  had  hardly  proceeded  out  of 


86  JONATHAN  WILD. 

sight  of  land  when  a  sudden  and  violent  storm  arose  and 
drove  them  to  the  south-west;  insomuch  that  the  captain 
apprehended  it  impossible  to  avoid  the  Goodwin  Sands,  and 
he  and  all  his  crew  gave  themselves  for  lost.  Mrs.  Heart- 
free,  who  had  no  other  apprehensions  from  death  but 
those  of  leaving  her  dear  husband  and  children,  fell  on 
her  knees  to  beseech  the  Almighty's  favor,  when  Wild, 
with  a  contempt  of  danger  truly  great,  took  a  resolution 
as  worth}-  to  be  admired  perhaps  as  any  recorded  of  the 
bravest  hero,  ancient  or  modern;  a  resolution  which 
plainly  proved  him  to  have  these  two  qualifications  so 
necessary  to  a  hero,  to  be  superior  to  all  the  energies  of 
fear  or  pity.  He  saw  the  tyrant  death  ready  to  rescue 
from  him  his  intended  prey,  which  he  had  yet  devoured 
only  in  imagination.  He  therefore  swore  he  would  pre- 
vent him,  and  immediately  attacked  the  poor  wretch,  who 
was  in  the  utmost  agonies  of  despair,  first  with  solicita- 
tion, and  afterwards  with  force. 

Mrs  Heartfree,  the  moment  she  understood  his  meaning, 
which,  in  her  present  temper  of  mind,  and  in  the  opinion 
she  held  of  him,  she  did  not  immediately,  rejected  him  with 
all  the  repulses  which  indignation  and  horror  could  ani- 
mate; but  when  he  attempted  violence  she  filled  the  cabin 
with  her  shrieks,  which  were  so  vehement  that  they 
reached  the  ears  of  the  captain,  the  storm  at  this  time 
luckily  abating.  This  man,  who  was  a  brute  rather  from 
his  education  and  the  element  he  inhabited  than  from 
nature,  ran  hastily  down  to  her  assistance,  and,  finding 
her  struggling  on  the  ground  with  our  hero,  he  presently 
rescued  her  from  her  intended  ravisher,  who  was  soon 
obliged  to  quit  the  woman,  in  order  to  engage  with  her 
lusty  champion,  who  spared  neither  pains  nor  blows  in 
the  assistance  of  his  fair  passenger. 

When  the  short  battle  was  over,  in  which  our  hero, 
had  he  not  been  overpowered  with  numbers,  who  came 
down  on  their  captain's  side,  would  have  been  victorious, 
the  captain  rapped  out  a  hearty  oath,  and  asked  Wild   if 


JONATHAN   WILD.  87 

he  had  no  more  Christianity  in  him  than  to  ravish  a 
woman  in  a  storm  ?  To  which  the  other  greatly  and  sul- 
lenly answered,  "It  was  very  well;  hut  d — n  him  if  he  had 
not  satisfaction  the  moment  they  came  onshore."      The 

captain  with  great  scorn  replied,   "Kiss ,"  etc.,  and 

then,  forcing  Wild  out  of  the  cabin,  he,  at  Mrs.  Heart- 
free 's  request,  locked  her  into  it,  and  returned  to  the  care 
of  h!s  ship. 

The  storm  was  now  entirely  ceased,  and  nothing  re- 
mained  but  the  usual  ruffling  of  the  sea  after  it,  when  one 
of  the  sailors  sp^ed  a  sail  at  a  distance,  which  the  captain 
wisely  apprehended  might  be  a  privateer  (for  we  were 
then  engaged  in  a  war  with  France),  and  immediately 
ordered  all  the  sail  possible  to  be  crowded,  but  this  cau- 
tion was  in  vain,  for  the  little  wind  which  then  blew  was 
directly  adverse,  so  that  the  ship  bore  down  upon  them, 
and  soon  appeared  to  be  what  the  captain  had  feared,  a 
French  privateer.  He  was  in  no  condition  of  resistance, 
and  immediately  struck  on  her  firing  the  first  gun.  The 
captain  of  the  Frenchman,  with  several  of  his  hands, 
came  on  board  the  English  vessel,  which  they  rifled  of 
everything  valuable,  and,  amongst  the  rest,  of  poor  Mrs. 
Heartfree's  whole  cargo;  and  then  taking  the  crew, 
together  with  the  two  passengers,  aboard  his  own  ship, 
he  determined,  as  the  other  would  be  only  a  burthen  to 
him,  to  sink  her,  she  being  very  old  and  leaky,  and  not 
worth  going  back  with  to  Dunkirk.  He  preserved, 
therefore,  nothing  but  the  boat,  as  his  own  was  none  of 
the  best,  and  then,  pouring  a  broadside  into  her,  he  sent 
her  to  the  bottom. 

The  French  captain,  who  was  a  very  young  fellow,  and 
a  man  of  gallantry,  was  presently  enamored  to  no  small 
degree  with  his  beautiful  captive;  and,  imagining  Wild, 
from  some  words  he  dropped,  to  be  her  husband,  not- 
withstanding the  ill  affection  towards  him  which  ap- 
peared in  her  looks,  he  asked  her  if  she  understood 
French     She  answered  in  the  affirmative,  for  indeed  she 


88  JONATHAN  WILD. 

did  perfectly  well.  He  then  asked  her  how  long  she  and 
that  gentleman  (pointing  to  Wild)  had  been  married. 
She  answered,  with  a  deep  sigh  and  many  tears,  that  she 
was  married  indeed,  hut  not  to  that  villain,  who  was  the 
sole  cause  of  all  her  misfortunes.  The  appellation  raised 
a  curiosity  in  the  captain,  and  he  importuned  her  in  so 
pressing  hut  gentle  a  manner  to  acquaint  him  with  the 
injuries  she  complained  of,  that  she  was  at  last  prevailed 
on  to  recount  to  him  the  whole  history  of  her  afflictions. 
This  so  moved  the  captain,  who  had  too  little  notions  of 
greatness,  and  so  incensed  him  against  our  hero, 
that  he  resolved  to  punish  him;  and,  without 
regard  to  the  laws  of  war,  he  immediately  ordered  out 
his  shattered  boat,  and,  making  Wild  a  present  of  half-a- 
dozen  biscuits  to  prolong  his  misery,  he  put  him  therein, 
and  then,  committing  him  to  the  mercy  of  the  sea,  pro- 
ceeded on  his  cruise. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

The  great  and  wonderful  behavior  of  our  hero  in  the  boat. 

It  is  probable  that  a  desire  of  ingratiating  himself 
with  his  charming  captive,  or  rather  conqueror,  had  no 
little  share  in  promoting  this  extraordinary  act  of  illegal 
justice  ;  for  the  Frenchman  had  conceived  the  same  sort 
of  passion  or  hunger  which  Wild  himself  had  felt,  and 
was  almost  as  much  resolved,  by  some  means  or  other, 
to  satisfy  it.  We  will  leave  him,  however,  at  present  in 
the  pursuit  of  his  wishes,  and  attend  our  hero  in  his  boat, 
since  it  is  in  circumstances  of  distress  that  true  great- 
ness appears  most  wonderful.  For  that  a  prince  in  the 
midst  of  his  courtiers,  all  ready  to  compliment  him  with 
his  favorite  character  or  title,  and  indeed  with  everything 
else,  or  that  a  conqueror,  at  the  head  of  a  hundred  thou- 
sand men,  all  prepared  to  execute  his  will,  how  ambitious, 


JONATHAN  WILD.  89 

wanton,,  or  cruel  soever,  should,  in  the  giddiness  of  their 
pride,  elevate  themselves  many  degrees  above  those  their 
tools,  seems  not  difficult  to  be  imagined,  or  indeed  ac- 
counted for.  But  that  a  man  in  chains,  in  prison,  na}r,  in 
the  vilest  dungeon,  should,  with  persevering  pride  and 
obstinate  dignity,  discover  that  vast  superiority  in  his 
own  nature  over  the  rest  of  mankind,  who  to  a  vulgar 
eye  seem  much  happier  than  himself;  nay,  that  he 
should  discover  heaven  and  providence  (whose  peculiar 
care,  it  seems,  he  is)  at  that  very  time  at  work  for  him;  this 
is  among  the  arcana  of  greatness,  to  be  perfectly  under- 
stood only  by  an  adept  in  that  science. 

What  could  be  imagined  more  miserable  than  the  sit- 
uation of  our  hero  at  this  season,  floating  in  a  little  boat 
on  the  open  seas,  without  oar,  without  sail,  and  at  the 
mercy  of  the  first  wave  to  overwhelm  him  ?  nay,  this 
was  indeed  the  fair  side  of  his  fortune,  as  it  was  a 
much  more  eligible  fate  than  that  alternative  which 
threatened  him  with  almost  unavoidable  certainty,  viz. 
starving  with  hunger,  the  sure  consequence  of  a  continu- 
ance of  the  calm. 

Our  hero,  finding  himself  in  this  condition,  began  to 
ejaculate  a  round  of  blasphemies,  which  the  reader,  with- 
out being  over-pious,  might  be  offended  at  seeing  re- 
peated. He  then  accused  the  whole  female  sex,  and  the 
passion  of  love  (as  he  called  it),  particularly  that  which 
he  bore  to  Mrs.  Heartfree,  as  the  unhappy  occasion  of 
his  present  sufferings.  At  length,  finding  himself  de- 
scending too  much  into  the  language  of  meanness  and 
complaint,  he  stopped  short,  and  soon  after  broke  forth  as 
follows:  "D— n  it,  a  man  can  die  but  once  !  what  signifies 
it  ?  Every  man  must  die,  and  when  it  is  over  it  is  over. 
I  never  was  afraid  of  anything  yet,  nor  I  won't  begin 
now;  no,  d— n  me,  won't  I.  What  signifies  fear?  I 
shall  die  whether  I  am  afraid  or  no  ;  who's  afraid  then, 
d— n  me  ?  '  At  which  words  he  looked  extremely  fierce, 
but,  recollecting  that  no  one  was  present  to  see  him,  he 


90  JONATHAN  WILD. 

relaxed  a  little  the  terror  of  his  countenance,  and,  paus- 
ing- a  while,  repeated  the  word,  d— n  !  "  Suppose  I 
should  be  d — ned  at  last,"  cries  he,  "  when  I  never 
thought  a  syllable  of  the  matter !  I  have  often  laughed 
and  made  a  jest  about  it,  and  yet  it  may  be  so,  for  any- 
thing which  I  know  to  the  contrary.  If  there  should  be 
another  world  it  will  go  hard  with  me,  that  is  certain. 
I  shall  never  escape  for  what  I  have  done  to  Heartfree. 
The  devil  must  have  me  for  that  undoubtedly.  The 
devil !  Pshaw  !  I  am  not  such  a  fool  to  be  frightened 
at  him  neither.  No,  no;  when  a  man's  dead  there's  an 
end  of  him.  1  wish  I  was  certainly  satisfied  of  it  though  ; 
for  there  are  some  men  of  learning,  as  I  have  heard,  of  a 
different  opinion.  It  is  but  a  bad  chance,  methinks,  I 
stand.  If  there  be  no  other  world,  why  I  shall  be  in  no 
worse   condition   than  a   block  or  a  stone ;  but  if  there 

should d— n  me  I  will  think  no  longer  about  it.     Let  a 

pack  of  cowardly  rascals  be  afraid  of  death,  I  dare  look 
him  in  the  face.  But  shall  I  stay  and  be  starved  ?  No, 
1  will  eat  up  the  biscuits  the  French  son  of  a  whore 
bestowed  on  me,  and  then  leap  into  the  sea  for  drink, 
since  the  unconscionable  dog  hath  not  allowed  me  a 
single  dram."  Having  thus  said,  he  proceeded  immedi- 
ately to  put  his  purpose  in  execution,  and  as  his  resolu- 
tion never  failed  him,  he  had  no  sooner  despatched  the 
small  quantity  of  provision  which  his  enemy  had  with  no 
vast  liberality  presented  him,  than  he  cast  himself  head* 
long  into  the  sea. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

The  strange  and  yet  natural  escape  of  our  hero. 

Our  hero,  having  with  wonderful   resolution   thrown 

himself  into  the  sea,  as  we  mentioned  at  the  end  of  the 

last  chapter,  was  miraculously  within  two  minutes  after 

replaced  in  his  boat ;  and  this  without  the  assistance  of  a 


JONATHAN  WILD.  91 

dolphin  or  a  seahorse,  or  an}'  other  fish  or  animal,  who 
are  always  as  ready  at  hand  when  a  poet  or  historian 
pleases  to  call  for  them  to  carry  a  hero  through  the  sea, 
as  any  chairman  at  a  coffee-house  door  near  St.  James's 
to  convey  a  beau  over  a  street,  and  preserve  his  white 
stockings.  The  truth  is,  we  do  not  choose  to  have  any 
recourse  to  miracles,  from  the  strict  observance  we  pay 
to  that  rule  of  Horace, 

Nee  Deus  intersit,  nisi  dignus  vindice  nodus. 

The  meaning  of  which  is,  do  not  bring  in  a  supernatural 
agent  when  you  can  do  without  him  ;  and  indeed  we  are 
much  deeper  read  in  natural  than  supernatural  causes. 
We  will  therefore  endeavor  to  account  for  this  extraordi- 
nary event  from  the  former  of  these  ;  and  in  doing  this  it 
will  be  necessary  to  disclose  some  profound  secrets  to  our 
reader,  extremely  well  worth  his  knowing,  and  which 
may  serve  him  to  account  for  many  occurrences  of  the 
phenomenous  kind  which  have  formerly  appeared  in  this 
our  hemisphere. 

Be  it  known,  then,  that  the  great  Alma  Mater,  Nature 
is  of  all  other  females  the  most  obstinate,  and  tenacious 
of  her  purpose.     So  true  is  that  observation, 

Naturam  expellas  f  urea  licet,  usque  recurret. 

Which  I  need  not  render  in  English,  it  being  to  be  found 
in  a  book  which  most  fine  gentlemen  are  forced  to  read. 
Whatever  Nature,  therefore,  purposes  to  herself,  she 
never  suffers  any  reason,  design,  or  accident  to  frustrate. 
Now,  though  it  may  seem  to  a  shallow  observer  that 
some  persons  were  designed  by  Nature  for  no  use  or  pur- 
pose whatever,  yet  certain  it  is  that  no  man  is  born  into 
the  world  without  his  particular  allotment ;  viz.  some  to 
be  kings,  some  statesmen,  some  ambassadors,  some 
bishops,  some  generals,  and  so  on.  Of  these  there  be  two 
kinds:  those  to  whom  Nature  is  so  generous  to  give  some 
endowment  qualifying  them  for  the  parts  she  intends 
them  afterwards  to  act  on  this  stage,  and  those  whom  she 


92  JONATHAN  WILD. 

uses  as  instances  of  her  unlimited  power,  and  for  whose 
preferment  to  such  and  such  stations  Solomon  himself 
could  have  invented  no  other  reason  than  that  Nature 
designed  them  so.  These  latter  some  great  philosophers 
have,  to  show  them  to  be  the  favorites  of  Nature,  dis- 
tinguished by  the  honorable  appellation  of  naturals. 
Indeed,  the  true  reason  of  the  general  ignorance  of  man- 
kind on  this  head  seems  to  be  this;  that,  as  Nature 
chooses  to  execute  these  her  purposes  by  certain  second 
causes,  and  as  many  of  these  second  causes  seem  so 
totally  foreign  to  her  design,  the  wit  of  man,  which,  like 
his  eye,  sees  best  directly  forward,  and  very  little  and  im- 
perfectly what  is  oblique,  is  not  able  to  discern  the  end  by 
the  means.  Thus,  how  a  handsome  wife  or  daughter  should 
contribute  to  execute  her  original  designation  of  a  gen- 
eral, or  how  flattery  or  half  a  dozen  houses  in  a  borough- 
town  should  denote  a  judge,  or  a  bishop,  he  is  not  capa- 
ble of  comprehending.  And,  indeed,  we  ourselves,  wise 
as  we  are,  are  forced  to  reason  ab  effectu;  and  if  we  had 
been  asked  what  Nature  had  intended  such  men  for, 
before  she  herself  had  by  the  event  demonstrated  her  pur- 
pose, it  is  possible  we  might  sometimes  have  been  puzzled 
to  declare  ;  for  it  must  be  confessed  that  at  first  sight,  and 
to  a  mind  uninspired,  a  man  of  vast  natural  incapacity 
and  much  acquired  knowledge  may  seem  by  Nature 
designed  for  power  and  honor,  rather  than  one  remark- 
able only  for  the  want  of  these,  and  indeed  all  other  qual- 
ifications; whereas  daily  experience  convinces  us  of  the 
contrary,  and  drives  us  as  it  were  into  the  opinion  I  have 
here  disclosed. 

Now,  Nature  having  originally  intended  our  great  man 
lor  that  final  exaltation  which,  as  it  is  the  most  proper 
and  becoming  end  of  all  great  men,  it  were  heartily  to  be 
wished  they  might  all  arrive  at,  would  by  no  means  be 
diverted  from  her  purpose.  She  therefore  no  sooner  spied 
him  in  the  water  than  she  softly  whispered  in  his  ear  to 
attempt  the  recovery  of  his  boat,  which  call  he  immedi- 


JONATHAN   WILD.  93 

ately  obeyed,  and  being-  a  good   swimmer  and  it  being  a 
perfect  calm,  with  great  facility  accomplished  it. 

Thus  we  think  this  passage  in  our  history,  at  first  so 
greatly  surprising,  is  very  naturally  accounted  for,  and 
our  relation  rescued  from  the  Prodigious,  which,  though 
it  often  occurs  in  biography,  is  not  to  be  encouraged  nor 
much  commended  on  any  occasion,  unless  when  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  prevent  the  history's  being  at  an  end. 
Secondly,  we  hope  our  hero  is  justified  from  that  imputa- 
tion of  want  of  resolution  which  must  have  been  fatal  to 
the  greatness  of  his  character. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

The   conclusion  of  the  boat  adventure  and  the  end  of  the  second 

book. 

Our  hero  passed  the  remainder  of  the  evening,  the 
night,  and  the  next  da}r,  in  a  condition  not  much  to  be 
envied  by  any  passion  of  the  human  mind,  unless  by 
ambition;  which,  provided  it  can  only  entertain  itself  with 
the  most  distant  music  of  fame's  trumpet,  can  disdain  all 
the  pleasures  of  the  sensualist,  and  those  more  solemn, 
though  quieter  comforts,  which  a  good  conscience  sug- 
gests to  a  Christian  philosopher. 

He  spent  his  time  in  contemplation,  that  is  to  say,  in 
blaspheming,  cursing,  and  sometimes  singing  and  whis- 
tling. At  last,  when  cold  and  hunger  had  almost  subdued 
his  native  fierceness,  it  being  a  good  deal  past  midnight 
and  extremely  dark,  he  thought  he  beheld  a  light  at  a 
distance,  which  the  cloudiness  of  the  sky  prevented  his 
mistaking  for  a  star ;  this  light,  however,  did  not  seem 
to  approach  him,  at  least  it  approached  by  such  imper- 
ceptible degrees  that  it  gave  him  very  little  comfort, 
and  at  length  totally  forsook  him.  He  then  renewed  his 
contemplation  as  before,  in  which  he  continued  till  the 
day  began  to  break,  when,  to  his  inexpressible  delight, 
he  beheld  a  sail  at  a  very  little  distance,  and  which  luckily 


94  JONATHAN    WILD. 

seemed  to  be  making  towards  him.  He  was  likewise 
soon  espied  by  those  in  the  vessel,  who  wanted  no  sig- 
nals to  inform  them  of  his  distress,  and,  as  it  was  almost 
a  calm,  and  their  course  lay  within  five  hundred  yards 
of  him,  they  hoisted  out  their  boat  and  fetched  him 
aboard. 

The  captain  of  this  ship  was  a  Frenchman ;  she  was 
laden  with  deal  from  Norway,  and  had  been  extremely 
shattered  in  the  late  storm  This  captain  was  of  that 
kind  of  men  who  are  actuated  by  general  humanity,  and 
whose  compassion  can  be  raised  by  the  distress  of  a  fel- 
low-creature, though  of  a  nation  whose  king  hath  quar- 
reled with  the  monarch  of  their  own.  He  therefore, 
commiserating  the  circumstances  of  Wild,  who  had 
dressed  up  a  story  proper  to  impose  upon  such  a  silly 
fellow,  told  him  that,  as  himself  well  knew,  he  must  be  a 
prisoner  on  his  arrival  in  France,  but  that  he  would 
endeavor  to  procure  his  redemption  ;  for  which  our  hero 
greatly  thanked  him.  But,  as  they  were  making  very 
slow  sail  (for  they  had  lost  their  mainmast  in  the  storm), 
Wild  saw  a  little  vessel  at  a  distance,  they  being  within 
a  few  leagues  of  the  English  shore,  which,  on  inquiry,  he 
was  informed  was  probably  an  English  fishing-boat. 
And,  it  being  then  perfectly  calm,  he  proposed  that,  if 
they  would  accommodate  him  with  a  pair  of  scullers,  he 
could  get  within  reach  of  the  boat,  at  least  near  enough 
to  make  signals  to  her  ;  and  he  preferred  any  risk  to  the 
certain  fate  of  being  a  prisoner.  As  his  courage  was 
somewhat  restored  by  the  provisions  (especially  brandy) 
with  which  the  Frenchman  had  supplied  him,  he  was  so 
earnest  in  his  entreaties,  that  the  captain,  after  many 
persuasions,  at  length  complied,  and  he  was  furnished 
with  scullers,  and  with  some  bread,  pork,  and  a  bottle  of 
brandy.  Then,  taking  leave  of  his  preservers,  he  again 
betook  himself  to  his  boat,  and  rowed  so  heartily  that 
he  soon  came  within  the  sight  of  the  fisherman,  who  im- 
mediately made  towards  him  and  took  him  aboard. 


JONATHAN   WILD.  95 

No  sooner  was  "Wild  got  safe  on  board  the  fisherman 
than  he  begged  him  to  make  the  utmost  speed  into  Deal, 
for  that  the  vessel  which  was  still  in  sight  was  a  dis- 
tressed Frenchman,  bound  for  Havre  de  Grace,  and 
might  easily  be  made  a  prize  if  there  was  any  ship  ready 
to  go  in  pursuit  of  her.  So  nobly  and  greatly  did  our 
hero  neglect  all  obligations  conferred  on  him  by  the 
enemies  of  his  country,  that  he  would  have  contributed 
all  he  could  to  the  taking  his  benefactor,  to  whom  he 
owed  both  his  life  and  his  liberty. 

The  fisherman  took  his  advice,  and  soon  arrived  at 
Deal,  where  the  reader  will,  I  doubt  not,  be  as  much  con- 
cerned as  Wild  was  that  there  was  not  a  single  ship 
prepared  to  go  on  the  expedition. 

Our  hero  now  saw  himself  once  more  safe  on  terra 
firma,  but  unluckily  at  some  distance  from  that  city 
where  men  of  ingenuity  can  most  easily  supply  their 
wants  without  the  assistance  of  money,  or  rather 
can  most  easily  procure  money  for  the  supply  of 
their  wants.  However,  as  his  talents  were  supe- 
rior to  every  difficulty,  he  framed  so  dexterous  an 
account  of  his  being  a  merchant,  having  been  taken 
and  plundered  by  the  enemy,  and  of  his  great  effects  in 
London,  that  he  was  not  only  heartily  regaled  by  the  fish- 
erman at  his  house,  but  made  so  handsome  a  booty  by 
way  of  borrowing,  a  method  of  taking  which  we  have 
before  mentioned  to  have  his  approbation,  that  he  was 
enabled  to  provide  himself  with  a  place  in  the  stage- 
coach ;  which  (as  God  permitted  it  to  perform  the  jour- 
ney) brought  him  at  the  appointed  time  to  an  inn  in  the 
metropolis. 

And  now,  reader,  as  thou  canst  be  in  no  suspense  for 
the  fate  of  our  great  man,  since  we  have  returned  him 
safe  to  the  principal  scene  of  his  glory,  we  will  a  little 
look  back  on  the  fortunes  of  Mr.  Heartfree,  whom  we  Jeft 
in  no  very  pleasant  situation  ;  but  of  this  we  shall  treat 
in  the  next  book. 


96  JONATHAN  WILD. 


BOOK      III. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Tlie  low  and  pitiful  behavior  of  Heartfree;  and  the  foolish  conduct 

of  his  apprentice. 

His  misfortunes  did  not  entirely  prevent  Heartfree  from 
closing  his  eyes.  On  the  contrary,  he  slept  several  hours 
the  first  night  of  his  confinement.  However,  he  perhaps 
paid  too  severely  dear  hoth  for  his  repose  and  for  a  sweet 
dream  which  accompanied  it,  and  represented  his  little 
family  in  one  of  those  tender  scenes  which  had  frequently 
passed  in  the  days  of  his  happiness  and  prosperity,  when 
the  provision  they  were  making  for  the  future  fortunes 
of  their  children  used  to  be  one  of  the  most  agreeable 
topics  of  discourse  with  which  he  and  his  wife  entertained 
themselves.  The  pleasantness  of  this  vision,  therefore, 
served  only,  on  his  awaking,  to  set  forth  his  present 
misery  with  additional  horror,-  and  to  heighten  the  dread- 
ful ideas  which  now  crowded  on  his  mind. 

He  had  spent  a  considerable  time  after  his  first  rising 
from  the  bed,  on  which  he  had,  without  undressing,  thrown 
himself,  and  now  began  to  wonder  at  Mrs.  Heartfree's 
long  absence ;  but  as  the  mind  is  desirous  (and  perhaps 
wisely  too)  to  comfort  itself  with  drawing  the  most  flat- 
tering conclusions  from  all  events,  so  he  hoped  the  longer 
her  stay  was  the  more  certain  was  his  deliverance.  At 
length  his  impatience  prevailed,  and  he  was  just  going  to 
despatch  a  messenger  to  his  own  house  when  his  appren- 
tice came  to  pay  him  a  visit,  and  on  his  inquiry  informed 
him  that  his  wife  had  departed  in  company  with  Mr. 
Wild  many  hours  before,  and  had  carried  all  his  most 
valuable  effects  with  her ;  adding  at  the  same  time  that 
she  had  herself  positively  acquainted  him  she  had  her 


JONATHAN  WILD.  9T 

husband's  express  orders  for  so  doing-,  and  that  she  was 
g-one  to  Holland. 

It  is  the  observation  of  many  wise  men,  who  have 
studied  the  anatomy  of  the  human  soul  with  more  atten- 
tion than  our  young-  physicians  generally  bestow  on  that 
of  the  body,  that  great  and  violent  surprise  hath  a  differ- 
ent effect  from  that  which  is  wrought  in  a  good  house- 
wife by  perceiving  any  disorders  in  her  kitchen  ;  who,  on 
such  occasions,  commonly  spreads  the  disorder,  not  only 
over  her  whole  family,  but  over  the  whole  neighborhood. 
— Now,  these  great  calamities,  especially  when  sudden, 
tend  to  stifle  and  deaden  all  the  faculties,  instead  of  rous- 
ing them ;  and  accordingly  Herodotus  tells  us  a  story  of 
Croesus,  king  of  Lydia,  who,  on  beholding  his  servants 
and  courtiers  led  captive,  wept  bitterly,  but,  when  he  saw 
his  wife  and  children  in  that  condition,  stood  stupid  and 
motionless ;  so  stood  poor  Heartfree  on  this  relation  of 
his  apprentice,  nothing  moving  but  his  color,  which  en- 
tirely forsook  his  countenance. 

The  apprentice,  who  had  not  in  the  least  doubted  the 
veracity  of  his  mistress,  perceiving  the  surprise  which 
too  visibly  appeared  in  his  master,  became  speechless 
likewise,  and  both  remained  silent  some  minutes,  gazing 
with  astonishment  and  horror  at  each  other.  At  last 
Heartfree  cried  out  in  an  agony,  "My  wife  deserted  me 
in  my  misfortunes  !  " — "  Heaven  forbid,  sir  !  "  answered 
the  other. — "  And  what  is  become  of  my  poor  children  ?  " 
replied  Heartfree. — "They  are  at  home,  sir,"  said  the 
apprentice. — "  Heaven  be  praised  !  She  hath  forsaken 
them  too!"  cries  Heartfree:  ''fetch  them  hither  this 
instant.  Go,  my  dear  Jack,  bring  hither  my  little  all 
which  remains  now :  fly,  child,  if  thou  dost  not  intend 
likewise  to  forsake  me  in  my  afflictions."  The  youth 
answered  he  would  die  sooner  than  entertain  such  a 
thought,  and,  begging  his  master  to  be  comforted,  in- 
stantly obeyed  his  orders. 

Heartfree,  the  moment  the  young  man  was  departed, 


98  JONATHAN  WILD. 

threw  himself  on  his  bed  in  an  agony  of  despair;  but, 
recollecting  himself  after  he  had  vented  the  first  sallies 
of  his  passion,  he  began  to  question  the  infidelity  of  his 
wife  as  a  matter  impossible.  He  ran  over  in  his  thoughts 
the  uninterrupted  tenderness  which  she  had  always  shown 
him,  and,  for  a  minute,  blamed  the  rashness  of  his  belief 
against  her ;  till  the  many  circumstances  of  her  having 
left  him  so  long,  and  neither  writ  nor  sent  to  him  since 
her  departure  with  all  his  effects  and  with  Wild,  of  whom 
he  was  not  before  without  suspicion,  and,  lastly  and 
chieflv,  her  false  pretense  to  his  commands,  entirely  turned 
the  scale,  and  convinced  him  of  her  disloyalty. 

While  he  was  in  these  agitations  of  mind,  tne  good  ap- 
prentice, who  had  used  the  utmost  expedition,  brought 
his  children  to  him.  He  embraced  them  with  the  most 
passionate  fondness,  and  imprinted  numberless  kisses  on 
their  little  lips.  The  little  girl  flew  to  him  with  almost 
as  much  eagerness  as  he  himself  expressed  at  her  sight, 
and  cried  out,  "  O  papa,  why  did  you  not  come  home  to 
poor  mamma  all  this  while  ?  I  thought  you  would  not 
have  left  your  little  Nancy  so  long. ' '  After  which  he  asked 
her  for  her  mother,  and  was  told  she  had  kissed  them 
both  in  the  morning,  and  cried  very  much  for  his  absence. 
All  which  brought  a  flood  of  tears  into  the  eyes  of  this 
weak,  silly  man,  who  had  not  greatness  sufficient  to  con- 
quer these  low  efforts  of  tenderness  and  humanity. 

He  then  proceeded  to  inquire  of  the  maid-servant,  who 
acquainted  him  that  she  knew  no  more  than  that  her 
mistress  had  taken  leave  of  her  children  in  the  morning 
with  many  tears  and  kisses,  and  had  recommended  them 
in  the  most  earnest  manner  to  her  care  ;  she  said  she  had 
promised  faithfully  to  take  care  of  them,  and  would, 
while  they  were  intrusted  to  her,  fulfill  her  promise.  For 
which  profession  Heartfree  expressed  much  gratitude  to 
her,  and,  after  indulging  himself  with  some  little  fond- 
ness, which  we  shall  not  relate,  he  delivered  his  children 
into  the  good  woman's  hands,  and  dismissed  her. 


5 

z 


JONATHAN  WILD,    .  09 


CHAPTER  II. 

A  soliliquy  of  Heart free s,  full  of  low  and  base  ideas,  without  a  syl- 
lable of  GREATNESS. 

Being  now  alone,  he  sat  some  short  time  silent,  and 
then  burst  forth  into  the  following-  soliloquy: — 

"  What  shall  I  do  ?  Shall  I  abandon  myself  to  a  dis- 
pirited despair,  or  fly  in  the  face  of  the  Almighty  ? 
Surely  both  are  unworthy  of  a  wise  man;  for  what  can 
be  more  vain  than  weakly  to  lament  my  fortune  if  irre- 
trievable, or,  if  hope  remains,  to  offend  thai  Being-  who 
can  most  strongly  support  it  ?  but  are  my  passions  then 
voluntary  !  Am  I  so  absolutely  their  master  that  I  can 
resolve  with  myself  so  far  only  will  I  grieve  ?  Certainly, 
no.  Reason,  however,  we  flatter  ourselves,  hath  not 
such  despotic  empire  in  our  minds  that  it  can,  with  im- 
perial voice,  hush  all  our  sorrow  in  a  moment.  Where 
then  is  its  use  ?  For  either  it  is  an  empty  sound,  and  we 
are  deceived  in  thinking  we  have  reason,  or  it  is  given  us 
to  some  end,  and  hath  a  part  assigned  it  by  the  all-wise 
Creator.  Why,  what  can  its  office  be  other  than  justly 
to  weigh  the  worth  of  all  things,  and  to  direct  us  to  that 
perfection  of  human  wisdom  which  proportions  our  es- 
teem of  every  object  by  its  real  merit,  and  prevents  us 
from  over  or  under  valuing  whatever  we  hope  for,  we  en- 
joy, or  we  lose.  It  doth  not  foolishly  say  to  us,  Be  not 
glad,  or,  Be  not  sorry,  which  would  be  as  vain  and  idle 
as  to  bid  the  purling  river  cease  to  run,  or  the  waging 
wind  to  blow.  It  prevents  us  only  from  exulting,  like 
children,  when  we  receive  a  toy,  or  from  lamenting  when 
we  are  deprived  of  it.  Suppose  then  I  have  lost  the  en- 
joyments of  this  world,  and  my  expectation  of  future 
pleasure  and  profit  is  for  ever  disappointed,  what  relief 
can  my  reason  afford  ?  What,  unless  it  can  show  me  I 
had  fixed  my  affections  on  a  toy;  that  what  I  desired  was 


100  JONATHAN  WILD. 

not,  by  a  wise  man,  eagerly  to  be  affected,  nor  its  loss 
violently  deplored  ?  for  there  are  toys  adapted  to  all 
ages,  from  the  rattle  to  the  throne;  and  perhaps  the  value 
of  all  is  equal  to  their  several  possessors;  for  if  the  rattle 
pleases  the  ear  of  the  infant  what  can  the  flattery  of  syco- 
phants give  more  to  the  prince  ?  The  latter  is  as  far  from 
examining  into  the  reality  and  source  of  his  pleasure  as 
the  former;  for  if  both  did,  they  must  both  equally  de- 
spise it.  And  surely,  if  we  consider  them  seriously,  and 
compare  them  together,  we  shall  be  forced  to  conclude  all 
those  pomps  and  pleasures  of  which  men  are  so  fond,  and 
which,  through  so  much  danger  and  difficulty,  with  such 
violence  and  villainy,  they  pursue,  to  be  as  worthless 
trifles  as  any  exposed  to  sale  in  a  toy  shop.  I  have  often 
noted  my  little  girl  viewing  with  eager  eyes  a  jointed 
baby;  I  have  marked  the  pains  and  solicitations  she  hath 
used  till  I  have  been  prevailed  on  to  indulge  her  with  it. 
At  her  first  obtaining  it,  what  joy  hath  sparkled  in  her 
countenance  !  with  what  raptures  hath  she  taken  posses- 
sion !  but  how  little  satisfaction  hath  she  found  in  it ! 
What  pains  to  work  out  her  amusement  from  it !  Its 
dress  must  be  varied;  the  tinsel  ornaments  which  first 
caught  her  eyes  produce  no  longer  pleasure;  she  endeav- 
ors to  make  it  stand  and  walk  in  vain,  and  is  constrained 
herself  to  supply  it  with  conversation.  In  a  day's  time 
it  is  thrown  by  and  neglected,  and  some  less  costly  toy 
preferred  to  it.  How  like  the  situation  of  this  child  is 
that  of  every  man  !  What  difficulties  in  the  pursuit  of 
his  desires  !  what  inanity  in  the  possession  of  most,  and 
satiety  in  those  which  seem  more  real  and  substantial ! 
The  delights  of  most  men  are  as  childish  and  as  super- 
ficial as  that  of  my  little  girl;  a  feather  or  a  fiddle  are 
their  pursuits  and  their  pleasures  through  life,  even  to 
their  ripest  years,  if  such  men  may  be  said  to  attain  any 
ripeness  at  all.  But  let  us  survey  those  whose  under- 
standings are  of  a  more  elevated  and  refined  temper;  how 
empty  do  they  soon  find  the  world  of  enjoyments  worth 


JONATHAN  WILD.  101 

their  desire  or  attaining- !  How  soon  do  they  retreat  to 
solitude  and  contemplation,  to  gardening-  and  planting, 
and  such  rural  amusements,  where  their  trees  and  they 
enjoy  the  air  and  the  sun  in  common,  and  both  vegetate 
with  very  little  difference  between  them.  But  suppose, 
(which  neither  truth  nor  wisdom  will  allow)  we  could  ad- 
mit something  more  valuable  and  substantial  in  these 
blessings,  would  not  the  uncertainty  of  their  possession 
be  alone  sufficient  to  lower  their  price  ?  How  mean  a 
tenure  is  that  at  the  will  of  fortune,  which  chance,  fraud, 
and  rapine  are  every  day  so  likely  to  deprive  us  of,  and 
often  the  more  likely  by  how  much  the  greater  worth  our 
possessions  are  off  !  Is  it  not  to  place  our  affections  on  a 
bubble  in  the  water,  or  on  a  picture  in  the  clouds  ?  What 
mad  man  would  build  a  fine  house  or  frame  a  beautiful 
garden  on  land  in  which  he  held  so  uncertain  an  interest? 
But  again,  was  all  this  less  undeniable,  did  Fortune,  the 
lady  of  our  manor,  lease  to  us  for  our  lives,  of  how  little 
consideration  must  even  this  term  appear  !  For,  admit- 
ting that  these  pleasures  were  not  liable  to  be  torn  from 
us,  how  certainly  must  we  be  torn  from  them  !  Perhaps 
to-morrow — nay  or  even  sooner;  for  asthe  excellent  poet 

says — 

Where  is  to-morrow  ? — In  the  other  world. 
To  thousands  this  is  true,  and  the  reverse 
Is  sure  to  none. 

But  if  I  have  no  further  hope  in  this  world,  can  I  have 
none  beyond  it?  Surely  those  laborious  writers,  who 
have  taken  such  infinite  pains  to  destroy  or  weaken  all 
the  proofs  of  futurity,  have  not  so  far  succeeded  as  to 
exclude  us  from  hope.  That  active  principle  in  man  which 
with  such  boldness  pushes  us  on  through  every  labor  and 
difficulty,  to  attain  the  most  distant  and  most  improbable 
event  in  this  world,  will  not  surely  deny  us  a  little  flat- 
tering prospect  of  those  beautiful  mansions  which,  if  they 
could  be  thought  chimerical,  must  be  allowed  the  loveliest 
which  can  entertain  the  eye  of  man;  and  to  which  the  road, 
if  we  understand  it  rightly,  appears  to  have  so  few  thorns 


102  JONATHAN  WILD. 

and  briars  in  it,  and  to  require  so  little  labor  and  fatigue 
from  those  who  shall  pass  through  it,  that  its  ways  are 
truly  said  to  be  ways  of  pleasantness,  and  all  its  paths 
to  be  those  of  peace.  If  the  proofs  of  Christianity  be  as 
strong  as  I  imagine  them,  surely  enough  may  be  deduced 
from  that  ground  only  to  comfort  and  support  the  most 
miserable  man  in  his  afflictions.  And  this  I  think  my 
reason  tells  me  that,  if  the  professors  and  propagators  of 
infidelity  are  in  the  right,  the  losses  which  death  brings 
to  the  virtuous  are  not  worth  their  lamenting ;  but  if 
these  are,  as  certainly  they  seem,  in  the  wrong,  the 
blessings  it  procures  them  are  not  sufficiently  to  be  coveted 
and  rejoiced  at. 

"  On  my  own  account  then,  I  have  no  cause  for  sorrow, 
but  on  my  children's  ! — Why  the  same  Being  to  whose 
goodness  and  power  I  intrust  my  own  happiness  is  like- 
wise as  able  and  willing  to  procure  theirs.  Nor  matters 
it  what  state  of  life  is  allotted  for  them,  whether  it  be  their 
fate  to  procure  bread  with  their  own  labor,  or  to  eat  it  at 
the  sweat  of  others.  Perhaps,  if  we  consider  the  case 
with  proper  attention,  or  resolve  it  with  due  sincerity,  the 
former  is  much  the  sweeter.  The  hind  may  be  more 
happy  than  the  lord,  for  his  desires  are  fewer,  and  those 
such  as  are  attended  with  more  hope  and  less  fear.  I 
will  do  my  utmost  to  lay  the  foundations  of  my  children's 
happiness ;  I  will  carefully  avoid  educating  them  in  a 
station  superior  to  their  fortune,  and  for  the  event  trust 
to  that  Being  in  whom  whoever  rightly  confides  must  be 
superior  to  all  worldly  sorrows." 

In  this  low  manner  did  this  poor  wretch  proceed  to 
argue,  till  he  had  worked  himself  up  into  an  enthusiasm 
which  by  degrees  soon  became  invulnerable  to  every 
human  attack ;  so  that  when  Mr.  Snap  acquainted  him 
with  the  return  of  the  writ,  and  that  he  must  carry  him 
to  Newgate,  he  received  the  message  as  Socrates  did  the 
news  of  the  ship's  arrival,  and  that  he  was  to  prepare  for 
death. 


JONATHAN   WILD.  103 

CHAPTER  III. 

Wherein  our  hero  proceeds  in  the  road  to  greatness. 

But  we  must  not  detain  our  reader  too  long  with  these 
low  characters.  He  is  doubtless  as  impatient  as  the 
audience  at  the  theatre  till  the  principal  figure  returns  on 
the  stage  ;  we  will  therefore  indulge  his  inclination,  and 
pursue  the  actions  of  the  Great  Wild. 

There  happened  to  be  in  the  stage  coach  in  which  Mr. 
Wild  traveled  from  Dover  a  certain  young  gentleman 
who  had  sold  an  estate  in  Kent,  and  was  going  to  London 
to  receive  the  money.  There  was  likewise  a  handsome 
young  woman  who  had  left  her  parents  at  Canterbury,  and 
was  proceeding  to  the  same  city,  in  order  (as  she  informed 
her  fellow-travelers)  to  make  her  fortune.  With  this  girl 
the  young  spark  was  so  much  enamored  that  he  publicly 
acquainted  her  with  the  purpose  of  his  journey,  and  offered 
her  a  considerable  sum  in  hand  and  a  settlement  if  she 
would  consent  to  return  with  him  into  the  country,  where 
she  would  be  at  a  safe  distance  from  her  relations. 
Whether  she  accepted  this  proposal  or  no  we  are  not  able 
with  any  tolerable  certainty  to  deliver  :  but  Wild,  the 
moment  he  heard  of  his  money,  began  to  cast  about  in  his 
mind  by  what  means  he  might  become  master  of  it.  He 
entered  into  a  long  harangue  about  the  methods  of  car- 
rying money  safely  on  the  road,  and  said,  he  had  at  that 
time  two  bank  bills  of  a  hundred  pounds  each  sewed  in 
his  coat ;  "  which,"  added  he,  "is  so  safe  a  way,  that  it 
is  almost  impossible  I  should  be  in  any  danger  of  being 
robbed  by  the  most  cunning  highwayman." 

The  young  gentleman,  who  was  no  descendant  of  Solo- 
mon, or,  if  he  was,  did  not  any  more  than  some  other 
descendants  of  wise  men,  inherit  the  wisdom  of  his  ances- 
tor, greatly  approved  Wild's  ingenuity,  and,  thanking 
him  for  his  information,   declared   he   would   follow   his 


104  JONATHAN   WILD. 

example  when  he  returned  into  the  country ;  by  which 
means  he  proposed  to  save  the  premium  commonly  taken 
for  the  remittance.  Wild  had  then  no  more  to  do  but 
to  inform  himself  rightly  of  the  time  of  the  gentle- 
man's journey,  which  he  did  with  great  certainty  before 
they  separated. 

At  his  arrival  in  town  he  fixed  on  two  whom  he  re- 
garded as  the  most  resolute  of  his  gang  for  this  enter- 
prise ;  and,  accordingly,  having  summoned  the  principal, 
or  most  desperate,  as  he  imagined  him,  of  these  two  (for 
he  never  chose  to  communicate  in  the  presence  of  more 
than  one),  he  proposed  to  him  the  robbing  and  murdering 
of  this  gentleman. 

Mr.  Marybone  (for  that  was  the  gentleman's  name  to 
whom  he  applied)  readily  agreed  to  the  robbery,  but 
he  hesitated  at  the  murder.  He  said,  as  to  robbery,  he 
had,  on  much  weighing  and  considering  the  matter,  very 
well  reconciled  his  conscience  to  it;  for,  though  that 
noble  kind  of  robbery  which  was  executed  on  the  high- 
way was,  from  the  cowardice  of  mankind,  less  frequent, 
yet  the  baser  and  meaner  species,  sometimes  called  cheat- 
ing, but  more  commonly  known  by  the  name  of  robbery 
within  the  law,  was  in  a  manner  universal.  He  did  not 
therefore  pretend  to  the  reputation  of  being  so  much 
honester  than  other  people ;  but  could  by  no  means  satisfy 
himself  in  the  commission  of  murder,  which  was  a  sin  of 
the  most  heinous  nature,  and  so  immediately  prosecuted 
by  God's  judgment  that  it  never  passed  undiscovered  or 
unpunished. 

Wild,  with  the  utmost  disdain  in  his  countenance,  an- 
swered as  follows  :  "  Art  thou  he  whom  I  have  selected 
out  of  my  whole  gang  for  this  glorious  undertaking,  and 
dost  thou  cant  of  God's  revenge  against  murder  ?  You 
have,  it  seems,  reconciled  your  conscience  (a  pretty  word) 
to  robbery  from  its  being  so  common.  It  is  then  the 
novelty  of  murder  which  deters  you  ?  Do  you  imagine 
that  guns,  and  pistols,  and  swords,  and  knives  are  the 


JONATHAN   WILD.  105 

only  instruments  of  death  ?  Look  into  the  world  and 
see  the  numbers  whom  broken  fortunes  and  broken  hearts 
bring  untimely  to  the  grave.  To  omit  those  glorious 
heroes  who,  to  their  immortal  honor,  have  massacred 
whole  nations,  what  think  you  of  private  persecution, 
treachery,  and  slander,  by  which  the  very  souls  of  men 
are  in  a  manner  torn  from  their  bodies  ?  Is  it  not  more 
generous,  nay,  more  good-natured,  to  send  a  man  to  his 
rest,  than,  after  having  plundered  him  of  all  he  hath,  or 
from  malice  or  malevolence  deprived  him  of  his  charac- 
ter, to  punish  him  with  a  languishing  death,  or,  what  is 
worse,  a  languishing  life?  Murder,  therefore,  is  not  so 
uncommon  as  you  weakly  conceive  it,  though,  as  you  said 
of  robbery,  that  more  noble  kind  which  lies  within  the 
paw  of  the  law  may  be  so.  But  this  is  the  most  innocent 
in  him  who  doth  it,  and  the  most  eligible  to  him  who  is 
to  suffer  it.  Believe  me,  lad,  the  tongue  of  a  viper  is  less 
hurtful  than  that  of  a  slanderer,  and  the  gilded  scales  of 
a  rattlesnake  less  dreadful  than  the  pulse  of  the  oppressor. 
Let  me  therefore  hear  no  more  of  your  scruples  ;  but  con- 
sent to  my  proposal  without  further  hesitation,  unless, 
like  a  woman,  you  are  afraid  of  blooding  j7cur  clothes, 
or,  like  a  fool,  are  terrified  with  the  apprehensions  of  being 
hanged  in  chains.  Take  my  word  for  it,  you  had  better 
be  an  honest  man  than  half  a  rogue.  Do  not  think  of 
continuing  in  my  gang  without  abandoning  yourself  ab- 
solutely to  my  pleasure ;  for  no  man  shall  ever  receive  a 
favor  at  my  hands  who  sticks  at  anything,  or  is  guided 
by  any  other  law  than  that  of  my  will." 

"Wild  thus  ended  his  speech,  which  had  not  the  desired 
effect  on  Marybone  ;  he  agreed  to  the  robbery,  but  would 
not  undertake  the  murder,  as  Wild  (who  feared  that,  by 
Marybone's  demanding  to  search  the  gentleman's  coat, 
he  might  hazard  suspicion  himself)  insisted.  Marybone 
was  immediately  entered  by  Wild  in  his  black-book,  and 
was  presently  after  impeached  and  executed  as  a  fellow 
on.  whom  his  leader  could  not  place  sufficient  dependence ; 


106  JONATHAN  WILD. 

thus  falling,  as  many  rogues  do,  a  sacrifice,  not  to  his 
roguery,  but  to  his  conscience. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

In  which  a  young  hero,  of  wonderful  good  promise,  makes  his  first 
appearance,  with  many  other  great  matters. 

Our  hero  next  applied  himself  to  another  of  his  gang, 
who  instantly  received  his  orders,  and,  instead  of  hesi- 
tating at  a  single  murder,  asked  if  he  should  blow  out 
the  brains  of  all  the  passengers,  coachman  and  all.  But 
Wild,  whose  moderation  we  have  before  noted,  would 
not  permit  him  ;  and  therefore,  having  given  him  an 
exact  description  of  the  devoted  person,  with  his  other 
necessary  instructions,  he  dismissed  him,  with  the  strict- 
est orders  to  avoid,  if  possible,  doing  hurt  to  any  other 
person. 

The  name  of  this  youth,  who  will  hereafter  make  some 
figure  in  this  history,  being  the  Achates  of  our  ^Eneas, 
or  rather  the  Hsephestion  of  our  Alexander,  was  Fire- 
blood.  He  had  every  qualification  to  make  a  second- 
rate  great  man  ;  or,  in  other  words,  he  was  completely 
equipped  for  the  tool  of  a  real  or  first-rate  great  man. 
We  shall  therefore  (which  is  the  properest  way  of  deal- 
ing with  this  kind  of  greatness)  describe  him  nega- 
tively, and  content  ourselves  with  telling  our  reader 
what  qualities  he  had  not ;  in  which  number  were 
humanity,  modesty,  and  fear,  not  one  grain  of  any  of 
which  was  mingled  in  his  whole  composition. 

We  will  now  leave  this  youth,  who  was  esteemed  the 
most  promising  of  the  whole  gang,  and  whom  Wild  often 
declared  to  be  one  of  the  prettiest  lads  he  had  ever  seen, 
of  which  opinion,  indeed,  were  most  other  people  of  his 
acquaintance;  we  will  however  leave  him  at  his  entrance 
on  this  enterprise,  and  keep  our  attention  fixed  on  our 


JONATHAN  WILD.  10? 

hero,  whom  we  shall  observe  taking  large  strides  towards 
the  summit  of  human  glory. 

Wild,  immediately  at  his  return  to  town,  went  to  pay 
a  visit  to  Miss  Laetitia  Snap;  for  he  had  that  weakness  of 
suffering  himself  to  be  enslaved  by  women,  so  naturally 
incident  to  men  of  heroic  disposition,  to  sa}^  the  truth,  it 
might  more  property  be  called  a  slavery  to  his  own  appe- 
tite; for,  could  he  have  satisfied  that,  he  had  not  cared 
three  farthings  what  had  become  of  the  little  tyrant  for 
whom  he  professed  so  violent  a  regard.  Here  he  was  in- 
formed that  Mr.  Heartfree  had  been  conveyed  to  New- 
gate the  day  before,  the  writ  being  then  returnable.  He 
was  somewhat  concerned  at  this  news;  not  from  any 
compassion  for  the  misfortunes  of  Heartfree,  whom  he 
hated  with  such  inveteracy  that  one  would  have  imagined 
he  had  suffered  the  same  injuries  from  him  which  he  had 
done  towards  him.  His  concern  therefore  had  another 
motive;  in  fact,  he  was  uneasy  at  the  place  of  Mr.  Heart- 
free's  confinement,  as  it  was  to  be  the  scene  of  his  future 
glory,  and  where  consequently  he  should  be  frequently 
obliged  to  see  a  face  which  hatred,  and  not  shame,  made 
him  detest  the  sight  of. 

To  prevent  this,  therefore,  several  methods  suggested 
themselves  to  him.  At  first  he  thought  of  removing  him 
out  of  the  way  by  the  ordinary  method  of  murder,  which 
he  doubted  not  but  Fireblood  would  be  very  ready  to  exe- 
cute; for  that  youth  had,  at  their  last  interview,  sworn, 
D — n  his  eyes,  he  thought  there  was  no  better  pastime 
than  blowing  a  man's  brains  out.  But,  besides  the  danger 
of  this  method,  it  did  not  look  horrible  nor  barbarous 
enough  for  the  last  mischief  which  he  should  do  to  Heart- 
free.  Considering,  therefore,  a  little  farther  with  him- 
self, he  at  length  came  to  a  resolution  to  hang  him,  if 
possible,  the  very  next  sessions. 

Now,  though  the  observation — how  apt  men  are  to  hate 
those  they  injure,  or  how  unforgiving  they  are  of  the  in- 
juries they  do  themselves — be  common  enough,  yet  I  do 


108  JONATHAN  WILD. 

not  remember  to  have  ever  seen  the  reason  of  this 
strange  phenomenon  as  at  first  it  appears.  Know  there- 
fore, reader,  that  with  much  and  severe  scrutiny  we  have 
discovered  this  hatred  to  he  founded  on  the  passion  of 
fear,  and  to  arise  from  an  apprehension  that  the  person 
whom  we  have  ourselves  greatly  injured  will  use  all  pos- 
sible endeavors  to  revenge  and  retaliate  the  injuries  we 
have  done  him.  An  opinion  so  firmly  established  in  bad 
and  great  minds  (and  those  who  confer  injuries  on  others 
have  seldom  very  good  or  mean  ones)  that  no  benevo- 
lence, nor  even  beneficence,  on  the  injured  side,  can  eradi- 
cate it.  On  the  contrary,  they  refer  all  these  acts  of 
kindness  to  imposture  and  design  of  lulling  their  suspi- 
cion, till  an  opportunity  offers  of  striking  a  surer  and 
severer  blow;  and  thus,  while  the  good  man  who  hath 
received  it  hath  truly  forgotten  the  injury,  the  evil  mind 
which  did  it  hath  it  in  lively  and  fresh  remembrance. 

As  we  scorn  to  keep  any  discoveries  secret  from  our 
readers,  whose  instruction,  as  well  as  diversion,  we  have 
greatly  considered  in  this  history,  we  have  here  digressed 
somewhat  to  communicate  the  following  short  lesson  to 
those  who  are  simple  and  well  inclined:  though  as  a 
Christian  thou  art  obliged,  and  we  advise  thee,  to  forgive 
thy  enemy,  never  trust  the  man  who  hath  reason  to 

SUSPECT  THAT  YOU  KNOW  HE  HATH  INJURED  YOU. 


CHAPTER  V. 

More  and  more  greatness,  unparalleled  in  history  or  romance. 

In  order  to  accomplish  this  great  and  noble  scheme, 
which  the  vast  genius  of  Wild  had  contrived,  the  first 
necessary  step  was  to  regain  the  confidence  of  Heartfree. 
But,  however  necessary  this  was,  it  seemed  to  be 
attended  with  such  insurmountable  difficulties,  that  even 
our  hero  for  some  time  despaired  of  success.  He  was 
greatly  superior  to  all  mankind  in  the  steadiness  of  his 


JONATHAN  WILD.  109 

countenance,  but  this  undertaking-  seemed  to  require 
more  of  that  noble  quality  than  had  ever  been  the  portion 
of  a  mortal.  However,  at  last  he  resolved  to  attempt  it, 
and  from  his  success  I  think  we  may  fairly  assert  that 
what  was  said  by  the  Latin  poet  of  labor,  that  it  conquers 
all  thing-s,  is  much  more  true  when  applied  to  im- 
pudence. 

When  he  had  formed  his  plan  he  when  to  Newgate,  and 
burst  resolutely  into  the  presence  of  Heartfree,  whom  he 
eagerly  embraced  and  kissed  ;  and  then,  first  arraigning 
his  own  rashness,  and  afterwards  lamenting  his  unfor- 
tunate want  of  success,  he  acquainted  him  with  the 
particulars  of  what  had  happened  ;  concealing  only  that 
single  incident  of  his  attack  on  the  other's  wife,  and  his 
motive  to  the  undertaking,  which,  he  assured  Heartfree, 
was  a  desire  to  preserve  his  effects  from  a  statute  of 
bankruptcy. 

The  frank  openness  of  this  declaration,  with  the  com- 
posure of  countenance  with  which  it  was  delivered ;  his 
seeming  only  ruffled  by  the  concern  for  his  friend's  mis- 
fortune ;  the  probability  of  truth  attending  it,  joined  to 
the  boldness  and  disinterested  appearance  of  this  visit, 
together  with  his  many  professions  of  immediate  service 
at  a  time  when  he  could  not  have  the  least  visible  motive 
from  self-love;  and  above  all,  his  offering  him  money, 
the  last  and  surest  token  of  friendship,  rushed  with  such 
united  force  on  the  well-disposed  heart,  as  it  is  vulgarly 
called,  of  this  simple  man,  that  they  instantly  staggered 
and  soon  subverted  all  the  determination  he  had  before 
made  in  prejudice  of  Wild,  who,  perceiving  the  balance 
to  be  turning  in  his  favor,  presently  threw  in  a  hundred 
imprecations  on  his  own  foiJy  and  ill-advised  forwardness 
to  serve  his  friend,  which  had  thus  unhappily  produced 
his  ruin  ;  he  added  as  many  curses  on  the  count,  whom  he 
vowed  to  pursue  with  revenge  all  over  Europe  ;  lastly, 
he  cast  in  some  grains  of  comfort,  assuring  Heartfree 
that  his  wife  was  fallen  into  the  gentlest  hands,  that  she 


110  JONATHAN  WILD. 

would  be  c?rried  no  farther  than  Dunkirk,  whence  she 
might  very  easily  be  redeemed. 

Heartfree,  to  whom  the  lightest  presumption  of  his 
wife's  fidelity  would  have  been  more  delicious  than  the 
absolute  restoration  of  all  his  jewels,  and  who,  indeed, 
had  with  the  utmost  difficulty  been  brought  to  entertain 
the  slightest  suspicion  of  her  inconstancy,  immediately 
abandoned  all  distrust  of  both  her  and  his  friend,  whose 
sincerity  (luckily  for  Wild's  purpose)  seemed  to  him  to 
depend  on  the  same  evidence.  He  then  embraced  our 
hero,  who  had  in  his  countenance  all  the  symptoms  of  the 
deepest  concern,  and  begged  him  to  be  comforted  ;  sa3'ing 
that  the  intentions,  rather  than  the  actions  of  men,  con- 
ferred obligations  ;  that  as  to  the  event  of  human  affairs, 
it  was  governed  either  by  chance  or  some  superior 
agent ;  that  friendship  was  concerned  only  in  the  direc- 
tion of  our  designs ;  and  suppose  these  failed  of  success, 
or  produced  an  event  never  so  contrary  to  their  aim,  the 
merit  of  a  good  intention  was  not  in  the  least  lessened, 
but  was  rather  entitled  to  compassion. 

Heartfree  however  was  soon  curious  enough  to  inquire 
how  Wild  had  escaped  the  captivity  which  his  wife  then 
suffered.  Here  likewise  he  recounted  the  whole  truth, 
omitting  only  the  motive  to  the  French  captain's  cruelty, 
for  which  he  assigned  a  very  different  reason,  namely, 
his  attempt  to  secure  Heartfree's  jewels.  Wild  indeed 
always  kept  as  much  truth  as  was  possible  in  every- 
thing ;  and  this  he  said  was  turning  the  cannon  of  the 
enemy  upon  themselves. 

Wild,  having  thus  with  admirable  and  truly  laudable 
conduct  achieved  the  first  step,  began  to  discourse  on  the 
badness  of  the  world,  and  particularly  to  blame  the 
severity  of  creditors,  who  seldom  or  never  attend  to  any 
unfortunate  circumstances,  but  without  mercy  inflicted 
confinement  on  the  debtor,  whose  body  the  law,  with  very 
unjustifiable  rigor,  delivered  into  their  power.  He  added, 
that  for  his  part,  he  looked  on  this  restraint  to  be  as 


JONATHAN  WILD.  Ill 

heavy  a  punishment  as  any  appointed  by  law  for  the 
greatest  offenders.  That  the  loss  of  liberty  was,  in  his 
opinion,  equal  to,  if  not  worse  than,  the  loss  of  life  ;  that 
he  had  always  determined,  if  by  any  accident  or  mis- 
fortune he  had  been  subjected  to  the  former,  he  would 
run  the  greatest  risk  of  the  latter  to  rescue  himself  from 
it ;  which,  he  said,  if  men  did  not  want  resolution,  was 
always  enough  ;  for  that  it  was  ridiculous  to  conceive 
that  two  or  three  men  could  confine  two  or  three  hundred, 
unless  the  prisoners  were  either  fools  or  cowards,  especi- 
ally when  they  were  neither  chained  nor  fettered.  He 
went  on  in  this  manner  till,  perceiving  the  utmost  atten- 
tion in  Heartfree,  he  ventured  to  propose  to  him  an  en- 
deavor to  make  his  escape,  which  he  said  might  easily  be 
executed;  that  he  would  himself  raise  a  party  in  the 
prison,  and  that,  if  a  murder  or  two  should  happen  in  the 
attempt,  he  (Heartfree)  might  keep  free  from  any  share 
either  in  the  guilt  or  in  the  danger. 

There  is  one  misfortune  which  attends  all  great  men 
and  their  schemes,  viz. — that,  in  order  to  carry  them  into 
execution,  they  are  obliged,  in  proposing  their  purpose  to 
their  tools,  to  discover  themselves  to  be  of  that  disposi- 
tion in  which  certain  little  writers  have  advised  mankind 
to  place  no  confidence ;  an  advice  which  hath  been  some- 
times taken.  Indeed,  many  inconveniences  arise  to  the 
said  great  men  from  these  scribblers  publishing  without 
restraint  their  hints  or  alarms  to  society;  and  many 
great  and  glorious  schemes  have  been  thus  frustrated ; 
wherefore  it  were  to  be  wished  that  in  all  well-regulated 
governments  such  liberties  should  be  by  some  wholesome 
laws  restrained,  and  all  writers  inhibited  from  venting 
any  other  instructions  to  the  people  than  what  should  be 
first  approved  and  licensed  by  the  said  great  men,  or 
their  proper  instruments  or  tools  ;  by  which  means  noth- 
ing would  ever  be  published  but  what  made  for  the  ad- 
vancing their  most  noble  projects. 

Heartfree,  whose  suspicions  were  again  raised  by  this 


112  JONATHAN  WILD. 

advice,  viewing  Wild  with  inconceivable  disdain,  spoke 
as  follows :  "There  is  one  thing-  the  loss  of  which  I 
should  deplore  infinitely  beyond  that  of  liberty  and  of 
life  also ;  1  mean  that  of  a  good  conscience ;  a  blessing 
which  he  who  possesses  can  never  be  thoroughly  un- 
happy ;  for  the  bitterest  portion  of  life  is  by  this  so 
sweetened,  that  it  soon  becomes  palatable;  whereas, 
without  it,  the  most  delicate  enjoyments  quickly  lose  all 
their  relish,  and  life  itself  grows  insipid,  or  rather 
nauseous,  to  us.  Would  you  then  lessen  my  misfortunes 
by  robbing  me  of  what  hath  been  my  only  comfort  under 
them,  and  on  which  I  place  my  dependence  of  being  re- 
lieved from  them  ?  I  have  read  that  Socrates  refused  to 
save  his  life  by  breaking  the  laws  of  his  country,  and  de- 
parting from  his  prison  when  it  was  open.  Perhaps  my 
virtue  would  not  go  so  far ;  but  Heaven  forbid  liberty 
should  have  such  charms  to  tempt  me  to  the  perpetration 
of  so  horrid  a  crime  as  murder  !  As  to  the  poor  evasion 
of  committing  it  by  other  hands,  it  might  be  useful  indeed 
to  those  who  seek  only  the  escape  from  temporal  punish- 
ment, but  can  be  of  no  service  to  excuse  me  to  that  Being 
whom  I  chiefly  fear  offending  ;  nay,  it  would  greatly  ag- 
gravate my  guilt  by  so  impudent  an  endeavor  to  impose 
upon  Him,  and  by  so  wickedly  involving  others  in  my 
crime.  Give  me,  therefore,  no  more  advice  of  this  kind  ; 
for  this  is  my  great  comfort  in  all  my  afflictions,  that  it 
is  in  the  power  of  no  enemy  to  rob  me  of  my  conscience, 
nor  will  I  ever  be  so  much  my  own  enemy  as  to  injure  it." 
Though  our  hero  heard  all  this  with  proper  contempt, 
he  made  no  direct  answer,  but  endeavored  to  evade  his 
proposal  as  much  as  possible,  which  he  did  with  admira- 
ble dexterity :  this  method  of  getting  tolerably  well  off, 
when  you  are  repulsed  in  your  attack  on  a  man's  con- 
science, may  be  styled  the  art  of  retreating,  in  which  the 
politician,  as  well  as  the  general,  hath  sometimes  a  won- 
derful opportunity  of  displaying  his  great  abilities  in 
his  profession. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  113 

Wild  having*  made  this  admirable  retreat,  and  argued 
away  all  design  of  involving  his  friend  in  the  guilt  of  mur- 
der, concluded,  however,  that  he  thought  him  rather  too 
scrupulous  in  not  attempting  his  escape;  and  then,  prom- 
ising to  use  all  such  means  as  the  other  would  permit  in 
his  service,  took  his  leave  for  the  present.  Heartfree, 
having  indulged  himself  an  hour  with  his  children,  re- 
paired to  rest,  which  he  enjoyed  quiet  and  undisturbed; 
whilst  Wild,  disdaining  repose,  sat  up  all  night,  consult- 
ing how  he  might  bring  about  the  final  destruction  of  his 
friend  without  being  beholden  to  any  assistance  from 
himself,  which  he  now  despaired  of  procuring.  With  the 
result  of  these  consultations  we  shall  acquaint  our  reader 
in  good  time,  but  at  present  we  have  matters  of  much 
more  consequence  to  relate  to  him. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  event  of  Fireblood' s  adventure;  and  a  treaty  of  marriage,  which 
might  have  been  concluded  either  at  Smithfield  or  St.  James's. 

Fireblood  returned  from  his  enterprise  unsuccessful. 
The  gentleman  happened  to  go  home  another  way  than 
he  had  intended ;  so  that  the  whole  design  miscarried. 
Fireblood  had  indeed  robbed  the  coach,  and  had  wantonly 
discharged  a  pistol  into  it,  which  slightly  wounded  one  of 
the  passengers  in  the  arm.  The  booty  he  met  with  was 
not  very  considerable,  though  much  greater  than  that 
with  which  he  acquainted  Wild;  for  of  eleven  pounds  in 
money,  two  silver  watches,  and  a  wedding-ring,  he  pro- 
duced no  more  than  two  guineas  and  the  ring,  which  he 
protested  with  numberless  oaths  was  his  whole  booty. 
However,  when  an  advertisement  of  the  robbery  was  pub- 
lished, with  a  reward  promised  for  the  ring  and  the 
watches,  Fireblood  was  obliged  to  confess  the  whole,  and 
to  acquaint  our  hero  where  he  had  pawned  the  watches; 


114  JONATHAN  WILD. 

which  Wild,  taking-  the  full  value  of  them  for  his  pains, 
restored  to  the  right  owner. 

He  did  not  fail  catechising-  his  young  friend  on  this 
occasion.  He  said  he  was  sorry  to  see  any  of  his  gang 
guilty  of  a  breach  of  honor;  that  without  honor  prig gery 
was  at  an  end;  that  if  a  prig  had  but  honor  he  would  over- 
look every  vice  in  the  world.  "But,  nevertheless,"  said 
he,  "I  will  forgive  you  this  time,  as  you  are  a  hopeful 
lad,  and  I  hope  never  afterwards  to  find  you  delinquent  in 
this  great  point." 

Wild  had  now  brought  his  gang  to  great  regularity: 
he  was  obeyed  and  feared  by  them  all.  He  had  likewise 
established  an  office  where  all  men  who  were  robbed,  pay- 
ing the  value  only  (or  a  little  more)  of  their  goods,  might 
have  them  again.  This  was  of  notable  use  to  several  per- 
srns  who  had  lost  pieces  of  plate  they  had  received  from 
their  grandmothers;  to  others  who  had  a  particular  value 
for  certain  rings,  watches,  heads  of  canes,  snuff-boxes, 
&c,  for  which  they  would  not  have  taken  twenty  times 
as  much  as  they  were  worth,  either  because  they  had 
them  a  little  while  or  a  long  time,  or  that  somebody  else  had 
had  them  before,  or  from  some  other  such  excellent  rea- 
son, which  often  stamps  a  greater  value  on  a  toy  than 
the  great  Bubble-boy  himself  would  have  the  impudence 
to  set  upon  it. 

By  these  means  he  seemed  in  so  promising  a  way  of 
procuring  a  fortune,  and  was  regarded  in  so  thriving  a 
light  by  all  the  gentlemen  of  his  acquaintance,  as  by  the 
keeper  and  turnkeys  of  Newgate,  by  Mr.  Snap,  and  others 
of  his  occupation,  that  Mr.  Snap  one  da}7,  taking  Mr. 
Wild  the  elder  aside,  very  senousljT  proposed  what  they 
had  often  lightly  talked  over,  a  strict  union  between  their 
families,  by  marrying  his  daughter  Tishy  to  our  hero. 
This  proposal  was  very  readily  accepted  by  the  old 
gentleman,  who  promised  to  acquaint  his  son  with  it. 

On  the  morrow  on  which  this  message  was  to  be  deliv- 
ered, our  hero,  little  dreaming  of  the  happiness  which,  of 


JONATHAN    WILD.  115 

his  own  accord,  was  advancing-  so  near  towards  him,  had 
called  Fireblood  to  him  ;  and,  after  informing-  that  youth 
of  the  violence  of  his  passion  for  the  young  lady,  and  as- 
suring him  what  confidence  he  reposed  in  him  and  his 
honor,  he  despatched  him  to  Miss  Tishy  with  the  follow- 
ing letter  ;  which  we  here  insert,  not  only  as  we  take  it  to 
be  extremely  curious,  but  to  be  a  much  better  pattern  for 
that  epistolary  kind  of  writing  which  is  generally  called 
love-letters  than  any  to  be  found  in  the  academy  of  com- 
pliments, and  which  we  challenge  all  the  beaux  of  our 
time  to  excel  either  in  matter  or  spelling. 

Most  deivine  and  adwhorable  creeture, — 

I  doubt  not  but  those  lis,  briter  than  the  son,  which  have 
kindled  such  a  flani  in  my  hart,  have  likewise  the  faculty  of  seeing 
it.  It  would  be  the  hiest  preassumption  to  imagin  you  eggnorant 
of  my  loav.  No,  madam,  I  sollemly  purtest,  that  of  all  the  butys 
in  the  unaversal  glob,  there  is  none  kapable  of  hateracting  my  lis 
like  you.  Corts  and  pallaces  would  be  to  me  deserts  without  your 
kumpany,  and  with  it  a  wilderness  would  have  more  charms  than 
haven  itself.  For  I  hop  you  will  beleve  me  when  I  sware  every 
every  place  in  the  universe  is  a  haven  with  you.  I  am  konvinced 
you  must  be  sinsibel  of  my  violent  passion  for  you,  which,  if  I  en- 
devored  to  hid  it,  would  be  as  impossible  as  for  you,  or  the  son,  to 
hid  your  buty's.  I  assure  you  I  have  not  slept  a  wink  since  I  had 
the  happiness  of  seeing  you  last ;  therefore  hop  you  will,  out  of 
Kumpassion,  let  me  have  the  honor  of  seeing  you  this  afternune  ; 
for  I  am,  with  [the  greatest  adwhoration,  most  deivine  creeture, 
your  most  passionate  amirer,  adwhorer,  and  slave, 

Jonathan  Wyld. 

If  the  spelling  of  this  letter  be  not  so  strictly  ortho- 
graphical, the  reader  will  be  pleased  to  remember  that 
such  a  defect  might  be  worthy  of  censure  in  a  low  and 
scholastic  character,  but  can  be  no  blemish  in  that  sub- 
lime greatness  of  which  we  endeavor  to  raise  a  complete 
idea  in  this  history.  In  which  kind  of  composition  spell- 
ing, or  indeed  any  kind  of  human  literature,  hath  never 
been  thought  a  necessary  ingredient ;  for  if  these  sort  of 
great  personages  can  but  complot  and  contrive  their  no- 
ble schemes,   and   hack  and  hew  mankind    sufficiently, 


116  JONATHAN  WILD. 

there  will  never  be  wanting-  fit  and  able  persons  who  can 
spell  to  record  their  p?  aises.  Again,  if  it  should  be  ob- 
served that  the  style  of  this  letter  doth  not  exactly  cor- 
respond with  that  of  our  hero's  speeches  which  we  have 
here  recorded,  we  answer,  it  is  sufficient  if  in  these  the 
historian  adheres  faithfully  to  the  matter,  though  he  em- 
bellishes the  diction  with  some  flourishes  of  his  own  elo- 
quence, without  which  the  excellent  speeches  recorded  in 
ancient  historians  (particularly  in  Sallust)  would  have 
scarce  been  found  in  their  writings.  Nay,  even  amongst 
the  moderns,  famous  as  they  are  for  elocution,  it  may  be 
doubted  whether  those  inimitable  harangues  published  in 
the  monthly  magazines  came  literally  from  the  mouths  of 
the  Hurgos,  &c,  as  they  are  there  inserted,  or  whether 
we  may  not  rather  suppose  some  historian  of  great  elo- 
quence hath  borrowed  the  matter  only,  and  adorned  it 
with  those  rhetorical  flowers  for  which  many  of  the  said 
HURGOS  are  not  so  extremely  eminent. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Matters  preliminary  to  the  marriage  between  Mr.  Jonathan  Wild 

and  the  chaste  Loztitia. 

But  to  proceed  with  our  history  ;  Fireblood,  having  re- 
ceived this  letter,  and  promised  on  his  honor,  with  many 
voluntary  asseverations,  to  discharge  the  embassy  faith- 
fully, went  to  visit  the  fair  Lsetitia.  The  lady,  having 
opened  the  letter  and  read  it,  put  on  an  air  of  disdain, 
and  told  Mr.  Fireblood  she  could  not  conceive  what  Mr. 
Wild  meant  by  troubling  her  with  his  impertinence ;  she 
begged  him  to  carry  the  letter  back  again,  saying,  had 
she  known  from  whom  it  came,  she  would  have  been  d — d 
before  she  had  opened  it.  "  But  with  you,  young-  gentle- 
man,"  says  she,  "I  am  not  in  the  least  angry.  I  am 
rather  sorry  that  so  pretty  a  young  man  should  be  em< 


JONATHAN  WILD.  117 

ployed  in  such  an  errand."  She  accompanied  these  words 
with  so  tender  an  accent  and  so  wanton  a  leer,  that  Fire- 
blood,  who  was  no  backward  youth,  began  to  take  her  by 
the  hand,  and  proceeded  so  warmly,  that,  to  imitate  his 
actions  with  the  rapidity  of  our  narration,  he  in  a  few 
minutes  ravished  this  fair  creature,  or  at  least  would 
have  ravished  her,  if  she  had  not,  by  a  timely  compliance, 
prevented  him. 

Fireblood,  after  he  had  ravished  as  much  as  he  could, 
returned  to  Wild,  and  acquainted  him,  as  far  as  any  wise 
man  would,  with  what  had  passed  ;  concluding  with  many 
praises  of  the  young  lady's  beauty,  with  whom,  he  said, 
if  his  honor  would  have  permitted  him,  he  should  himself 
have  fallen  in  love ,  but,  d — n  him  if  he  would  not  sooner 
be  torn  in  pieces  by  wild  horses  than  even  think  of  injur- 
ing his  friend.  He  asserted  indeed,  and  swore  so  heartily, 
that,  had  not  Wild  been  so  thoroughly  convinced  of  the 
impregnable  chastity  of  the  lady,  he  might  have  suspect- 
ed his  success ;  however,  he  was,  by  these  means,  entire- 
ly satisfied  of  his  friend's  inclination  towards  his  mistress. 

Thus  constituted  were  the  love  affairs  of  our  hero  when 
his  father  brought  him  Mr.  Snap's  proposal.  The  reader 
must  know  very  little  of  love,  or  indeed  of  anything  else,  if 
he  requires  any  information  concerning  the  reception  which 
this  proposal  met  with.  Not  guilty  never  sounded  sweeter 
in  the  ears  of  a  prisoner  at  the  bar,  nor  the  sound  of  a 
reprieve  to  one  at  the  gallows,  than  did  every  word  of 
the  old  gentleman  in  the  ears  of  our  hero.  He  gave  his 
father  full  power  to  treat  in  his  name,  and  desired  nothing 
more  than  expedition. 

The  old  people  now  met,  and  Snap,  who  had  informa- 
tion from  his  daughter  of  the  violent  passion  of  her  lover, 
endeavored  to  improve  it  to  the  best  advantage,  and 
would  have  not  only  declined  giving  her  any  fortune  him- 
self, but  have  attempted  to  cheat  her  of  what  she  owed 
to  the  liberality  of  her  relations,  particularly  of  a  pint 
silver  caudle-cup,  the  gift  of  her  grandmother.     How 


118  JONATHAN  WILD. 

ever,  in  this  the  young  lady  herself  afterwards  took  care 
to  prevent  him.  As  to  the  old  Mr.  Wild,  he  did  not  suf- 
ficiently attend  to  all  the  designs  of  Snap,  as  his  faculties 
were  busily  employed  in  designs  of  his  own,  to  overreach 
(or,  as  others  express  it,  to  cheat)  the  said  Mr.  Snap,  by 
pretending  to  give  his  son  a  whole  number  for  a  chair, 
when  in  reality  he  was  entitled  to  a  third  only. 

While  matters  were  thus  settling  between  the  old  folks, 
the  young  lady  agreed  to  admit  Mr.  Wild's  visits,  and, 
by  degrees,  began  to  entertain  him  with  all  the  show  of 
affection  which  the  great  natural  reserve  of  her  temper, 
and  the  great  artificial  reserve  of  her  education,  would 
permit.  At  length,  everything  being  agreed  between 
the  parents,  settlements  made,  and  the  lady's  fortune 
(to  wit,  seventeen  pounds  and  nine  shillings  in  money  and 
goods)  paid  down,  the  day  for  their  nuptials  was  fixed, 
and  they  were  celebrated  accordingly. 

Most  private  histories,  as  well  as  comedies,  end  at  this 
period ;  the  historian  and  the  poet  both  concluding  they 
have  done  enough  for  their  hero  when  they  have  married 
him  ;  or  intimating  rather  that  the  rest  of  his  life  must 
be  a  dull  calm  of  happiness,  very  delightful  indeed  to  pass 
through,  but  somewhat  insipid  to  relate ;  and  matrimony 
in  general  must,  I  believe,  without  any  dispute,  be  al- 
lowed to  be  this  state  of  tranquil  felicity,  including  so 
little  variety,  that,  like  Salisbury  Plain,  it  affords  only 
one  prospect,  a  very  pleasant  one  it  must  be  confessed, 
but  the  same. 

Now  there  was  all  the  probability  imaginable  that  this 
contract  would  have  proved  of  such  happy  note,  both 
from  the  great  accomplishments  of  the  young  lady,  who 
was  thought  to  be  possessed  of  every  qualification  neces- 
sary to  make  the  marriage  state  happy,  and  from  the 
truly  ardent  passion  of  Mr.  Wild  ;  but,  whether  it  was 
that  nature  and  fortune  had  great  designs  for  him  to  ex- 
ecute, and  would  not  suffer  his  vast  abilities  to  be  lost 
and  sunk  in  the  arms  of  a  wife,  or  whether  neither  nature 


JONATHAN  WILD.  119 

nor  fortune  had  any  hand  in  the  matter,  is  a  point  I  will 
not  determine.  Certain  it  is  that  this  match  did  not  pro- 
duce that  serene  state  we  have  mentioned  above,  but  re- 
sembled the  most  turbulent  and  ruffled,  rather  than  the 
most  calm,  sea. 

I  cannot  here  omit  a  conjecture,  ingenious  enough,  of  a 
friend  of  mine,  who  had  a  long  intimacy  in  the  Wild 
family.  He  hath  often  told  me  he  fancied  one  reason  of 
the  dissatisfactions  which  afterwards  fell  out  between 
Wild  and  his  lady  arose  from  the  number  of  gallants  to 
whom  she  had,  before  marriage,  granted  favors;  for, 
says  he,  and  indeed  very  probable  it  is,  too,  the  lady 
might  expect  from  her  husband  what  she  had  before  re- 
ceived from  several,  and,  being  angry  not  to  find  one  man 
as  good  as  ten,  she  had,  from  that  indignation,  taken, 
those  steps  which  we  cannot  perfectly  justify. 

From  this  person  I  received  the  following  dialogue, 
which  he  assured  me  he  had  overheard  and  taken  down 
verbatim.  It  passed  on  the  day  fortnight  after  they 
were  married. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  dialogue  matrimonial,  which  passed  between  Jonathan  Wild,  esq., 
and  Loztitia  his  wife,  on  the  morning  of  the  day  fortnight  on 
which  his  nuptials  icere  celebrated  ;  tchich  concluded  more  ami 
cably  than  those  debates  generally  do. 

Jonathan.  My  dear,  I  wish  you  would  lie  a  little  longer 
in  bed  this  morning. 

Loetitia.  Indeed  I  cannot;  I  am  engaged  to  breakfast 
with  Jack  Strongbow. 

Jonathan.  I  don't  know  what  Jack  Strongbow  doth  so 
often  at  my  house.  I  assure  you  I  am  uneasy  at  it ;  for, 
though  I  have  no  suspicion  of  your  virtue,  yet  it  may  in- 
jure your  reputation  in  the  opinion  of  my  neighbors. 


120  JONATHAN  WILD. 

Lcetitia.  I  don't  trouble  my  head  about  nry  neighbors ; 
and  they  shall  no  more  tell  me  what  company  I  am  to 
keep  than  my  husband  shall. 

Jonathan.  A  good  wife  would  keep  no  company  which 
made  her  husband  uneasy. 

Lcetitia.  You  might  have  found  one  of  those  good 
wives,  sir,  if  you  had  pleased  ;  I  had  no  objection  to  it. 

Jonathan.  I  thought  I  had  found  one  in  you. 

Lcetitia.  You  did  !  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you 
for  thinking  me  so  poor-spirited  a  creature ;  but  I  hope 
to  convince  you  to  the  contrary.  What,  I  suppose  you 
took  me  for  a  raw  senseless  girl,  who  knew  nothing  what 
other  married  women  do  ! 

Jonathan.  No  matter  what  I  took  you  for;  I  have 
taken  you  for  better  or  worse. 

Lcetitia.  And  at  your  own  desire  too ;  for  I  am  sure 
you  never  had  mine.  I  should  not  have  broken  my  heart 
if  Mr.  Wild  had  thought  proper  to  bestow  himself  on  any 
other  more  happy  woman.     Ha,  ha  ! 

Jonathan.  I  hope,  madam,  you  don't  imagine  that  was 
not  in  my  power,  or  that  I  married  you  out  of  any  kind 
of  necessity. 

Lcetitia.  O  no,  sir ;  I  am  convinced  there  are  silly 
women  enough.  And  far  be  it  from  me  to  accuse  you  of 
any  necessity  for  a  wife.  I  believe  you  could  have  been 
very  well  contented  with  the  state  of  a  bacnelor ;  I  have 
no  reason  to  complain  of  your  necessities ;  but  that,  you 
know,  a  woman  cannot  tell  beforehand. 

Jonathan.  I  can't  guess  what  you  would  insinuate,  for 
I  believe  no  woman  had  ever  less  reason  to  complain  of 
her  husband's  want  of  fondness. 

Loztitia.  Then  some,  I  am  certain,  have  great  reason 
to  complain  of  the  price  they  give  for  them.  But  I  know 
better  things.  {These  words  ivere  spoken  with  a  very 
great  air,  and  toss  of  the  head.) 

Jonathan.  Well,  my  sweeting,  I  will  make  it  impossi- 
ble for  you  to  wish  me  more  fond. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  121 

Lcetitia.  Pray,  Mr.  Wild,  none  of  this  nauseous  beha- 
vior, nor  those  odious  words.  I  wish  you  were  fond  !  I 
assure  you,  I  don't  know  what  you  would  pretend  to  in- 
sinuate of  me.  I  have  no  wishes  which  misbecome  a  vir- 
tuous woman.  No,  nor  should  not,  if  I  had  married  for 
love.  And  especially  now,  when  nobody,  I  am  sure,  can 
suspect  me  of  any  such  thing. 

Jonathan.  If  you  did  not  marry  for  love  why  did  you 
marry  ? 

Lcetitia.  Because  it  was  convenient,  and  my  parents 
forced  me. 

Jonathan.  I  hope,  madam,  at  least,  you  will  not  tell  me 
to  my  face  you  have  made  your  convenience  of  me. 

Lcetitia.  I  have  made  nothing-  of  you  ;  nor  do  I  desire 
the  honor  of  making-  anything  of  you. 

Jonathan.  Yes,  you  have  made  a  husband  of  me. 

Lcetitia.  No,  you  made  yourself  so ;  for  I  repeat  once 
more  it  was  not  my  desire,  but  your  own. 

Jonathan.  You  should  think  yourself  obliged  to  me  for 
that  desire. 

Lcetitia.  La,  sir  !  you  was  not  so  singular  in  it.  I  was 
not  in  despair.     I  have  had  other  offers,  and  better  too. 

Jonathan.  I  wish  you  had  accepted  them  with  all  my 
heart. 

Lcetitia.  I  must  tell  you,  Mr.  Wild,  this  is  a  very 
brutish  manner  of  treating  a  woman  to  whom  you  have 
such  obligations  ;  but  I  know  how  to  despise  it,  and  to 
despise  you  too  for  showing  it  me.  Indeed  I  am  well 
enough  paid  for  the  foolish  preference  I  gave  to  37ou.  I 
flattered  myself  that  I  should  at  least  have  been  used 
with  good  manners.  I  thought  I  had  married  a  gentle- 
man ;  but  I  find  you  every  way  contemptible  and  below 
my  concern. 

Jonathan.  D — n  you,  madam,  have  I  not  more  reason 
to  complain  when  you  tell  me  you  married  me  for  your 
convenience  only  ? 

Lcetitia.  Very  fine  truly.     Is  it  behavior    worthy  a 


122  JONATHAN  WILD. 

man  to  swear  at  a  woman  ?  Yet  why  should  I  mention 
what  comes  from  a  wretch  whom  I  despise? 

Jonathan.  Don't  repeat  that  word  so  often.  I  despise 
you  as  heartily  as  you  can  me.  And,  to  tell  you  a  truth, 
I  married  you  for  my  convenience  likewise,  to  satisfy  a 
passion  which  I  have  now  satisfied,  and  you  may  be  d — d 
for  anything  I  care. 

Lcetitia.  The  world  shall  know  how  barbarously  I  am 
treated  by  such  a  villain. 

Jonathan.  I  need  take  very  little  pains  to  acquaint  the 
world  what  a  b — ch  you  are,  your  actions  will  demon- 
strate it. 

Lcetitia.  Monster  !  I  would  advise  you  not  to  depend 
too  much  on  my  sex,  and  provoke  me  too  far  ;  for  I  can 
do  you  a  mischief,  and  will,  if  you  dare  use  me  so,  you  vil- 
lain ! 

Jonathan.  Begin  whenever  you  please,  madam ;  but 
assure  yourself,  the  moment  you  lay  aside  the  woman,  I 
will  treat  you  as  such  no  longer ;  and  if  the  first  blow  is 
yours,  I  promise  you  the  last  shall  be  mine. 

Lcetitia.  Use  me  as  you  will ,  but  d — n  me  if  ever  you 
shall  use  me  as  a  woman  again ;  for  may  I  be  cursed  if 
ever  I  enter  into  your  bed  more. 

Jonathan.  May  I  be  cursed  if  that  abstinence  be  not 
the  greatest  obligation  3rou  can  lay  upon  me  ;  for  I  as- 
sure you  faithfully  your  person  was  all  I  had  ever  any 
regard  for ;  and  that  I  now  loathe  and  detest  as  much  as 
ever  I  liked  it. 

Lcetitia.  It  is  impossible  for  two  people  to  agree  better ; 
Lor  I  always  detested  your  person  ;  and  as  for  any  other 
regard,  you  must  be  convinced  I  never  could  have  any 
for  you. 

Jonathan.  Why,  then,  since  we  come  to  a  right  under- 
standing, as  we  are  to  live  together,  suppose  we  agreed, 
instead  of  quarrelling  and  abusing,  to  be  civil  to  each 
other. 

Lcetitia.  With  all  my  heart. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  123 

Jonathan.  Let  us  shake  hands  then,  and  hencef  or  wards 
never  live  like  man  and  wife ;  that  is,  never  be  loving-  nor 
ever  quarrel. 

Lcetitia.  Agreed.  But  pray,  Mr.  Wild,  why  b — ch? 
Why  did  you  suffer  such  a  word  to  escape  you  ? 

Jonathan.  It  is  not  worth  your  remembrance. 

Lcetitia.  You  agree  I  shall  converse  with  whomso- 
ever I  please  ? 

Jonathan.  Without  control.  And  I  have  the  same 
liberty  ? 

Lcetitia.  When  I  interfere  may  every  curse  you  can 
wish  attend  me ! 

Jonathan.  Let  us  now  take  a  farewell  kiss,  and  may  I 
be  hanged  if  is  not  the  sweetest  you  ever  gave  me. 

Lcetitia.  But  why  b — ch  ?  Methmks  I  should  be  glad 
to  know  why  b — ch  ? 

At  which  words  he  sprang  from  the  bed,  d — ing  her 
temper  heartily.  She  returned  it  again  with  equal  abuse, 
which  was  continued  on  both  sides  while  he  was  dressing. 
However,  they  agreed  to  continue  steadfast  in  this  new 
resolution  ;  and  the  joy  arising  on  that  occasion  at  length 
dismissed  them  pretty  cheerfully  from  each  other,  though 
Lsetitia  could  not  help  concluding  with  the  words,  why 
b— ch? 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Observations  on  the  foregoing  dialogue,  together  with  a  base  design 
on  our  hero,  which  must  be  detested  by  every  lover  of  greatness. 

Thus  did  this  dialogue  (which,  though  we  have  termed 
it  matrimonial,  had  indeed  very  little  savor  of  the  sweets 
of  matrimony  in  it)  produce  at  last  a  resolution  more 
wise  than  strictly  pious,  and  which,  if  they  could  have 
rigidly  adhered  to  it,  might  have  prevented  some  un- 
pleasant moments  as  well  to  our  hero  as  to  his  serene  con- 
sort ;  but  their  hatred  was  so  very  great  and  unaccount- 


124  JONATHAN  WILD. 

able  that  they  never  could  bear  to  see  the  least  composure 
in  one  another's  countenance  without  attempting  to  rutlle 
it.  This  set  them  on  so  many  contrivances  to  plague  and 
vex  one  another,  that,  as  their  proximity  afforded  them 
such  frequent  opportunities  of  executing  their  malicious 
purposes,  they  seldom  passed  one  easy  or  quiet  day  to- 
gether. 

And  this,  reader,  and  no  other,  is  the  cause  of  those 
many  inquietudes  which  thou  must  have  observed  to  dis- 
turb the  repose  of  some  married  couples  who  mistake 
implacable  hatred  for  indifference  ;  for  why  should  Cor- 
vinus,  who  lives  in  a  round  of  intrigue,  and  seldom  doth, 
and  never  willingly  would,  dally  with  his  wife,  endeavor 
to  prevent  her  from  the  satisfaction  of  an  intrigue  in  her 
turn  ?  Why  doth  Camilla  refuse  a  more  agreeable  invi- 
tation abroad,  only  to  expose  her  husband  at  his  own 
table  at  home  ?  In  short,  to  mention  no  more  instances, 
whence  can  all  the  quarrels,  and  jealousies,  and  jars  pro- 
ceed in  people  who  have  no  love  for  each  other,  unless 
from  that  noble  passion  above  mentioned,  that  desire, 
according  to  my  lady  Betty  Modish,  of  curing  each  other 
of  a  smile. 

We  thought  proper  to  give  our  reader  a  short  taste  of 
the  domestic  state  of  our  hero,  the  rather  to  show  him 
that  great  men  are  subject  to  the  same  frailties  and  incon- 
veniences in  ordinary  life  with  little  men,  and  that  heroes 
are  really  of  the  same  species  with  other  human  crea- 
tures, notwithstanding  all  the  pains  they  themselves  or 
their  flatterers  take  to  assert  the  contrary ;  and  that 
they  differ  chiefly  in  the  immensity  of  their  greatness,  or, 
as  the  vulgar  erroneously  call  it,  villainy.  Now,  there- 
fore, that  we  may  not  dwell  too  long  on  low  scenes  in  a 
history  of  the  sublime  kind,  we  shall  return  to  actions  of 
a  higher  note  and  more  suitable  to  our  purpose. 

When  the  boy  Hymen  had,  with  his  lighted  torch, 
driven  the  boy  Cupid  out  of  doors,  that  is  to  say,  in  com- 
mon phrase,  when  the  violence  of  Mr.  Wild's  passion  (or 


JONATHAN  WILD.  125 

rather  appetite)  for  the  chaste  Leetitia  began  to  abate,  he 
returned  to  visit  his  friend  Heartfree,  who  was  now  in 
the  liberties  of  the  Fleet,  and  had  appeared  to  the  com- 
mission of  bankruptcy  against  him.  Here  he  met  with  a 
more  cold  reception  than  he  himself  had  apprehended. 
Heartfree  had  long  entertained  suspicions  of  Wild,  but 
these  suspicions  had  from  time  to  time  been  confounded 
with  circumstances,  and  principally  smothered  with  that 
amazing  confidence  which  was  indeed  the  most  striking 
virtue  in  our  hero.  Heartfree  was  unwilling  to  condemn 
his  friend  without  certain  evidence,  and  laid  hold  on  every 
probable  semblance  to  acquit  him ;  but  the  proposal  made 
at  his  last  visit  had  so  totally  blackened  his  character  in 
this  poor  man's  opinion,  that  it  entirely  fixed  the  waver- 
ing scale,  and  he  no  longer  doubted  but  that  our  hero  was 
one  of  the  greatest  villains  in  the  world. 

Circumstances  of  great  improbability  often  escape  men 
who  devour  a  story  with  greedy  ears ;  the  reader,  there" 
fore,  cannot  wonder  that  Heartfree,  whose  passions  were 
so  variously  concerned,  first  for  the  fidelity,  and  secondly 
for  the  safety  of  his  wife ;  and,  lastly,  who  was  so  dis- 
tracted with  doubt  concerning  the  conduct  of  his  friend, 
should  at  this  relation  pass  unobserved  the  incident  of  his 
being  committed  to  the  boat  by  the  captain  of  the  priva- 
teer, which  he  had  at  the  time  of  his  telling  so  lamely 
accounted  for ;  but  now,  when  Heartfree  came  to  reflect 
on  the  whole  and  with  a  high  prepossession  against  Wild, 
the  absurdity  of  this  fact  glared  in  his  eyes  and  struck 
him  in  the  most  sensible  manner.  At  length  a  thought 
of  great  horror  suggested  itself  to  his  imagination,  and 
this  was,  whether  the  whole  was  not  a  fiction,  and  Wild, 
who  was,  as  he  had  learned  from  his  own  mouth,  equal 
to  any  undertaking,  how  black  soever,  had  not  spirited 
away,  robbed,  and  murdered  his  wife. 

Intolerable  as  this  apprehension  was,  he  not  only 
turned  it  round  and  examined  it  carefully  in  his  own 
mind,  but  acquainted  young  Friendly  with  it  at  their  next 


126  JONATHAN  WILD. 

interview.  Friendly,  who  detested  Wild  (from  that  envy 
probably  with  which  these  great  characters  naturally 
inspire  low  fellows),  encouraged  these  suspicions  so 
much  that  Heartfree  resolved  to  attack  our  hero  and 
carry  him  before  a  magistrate. 

This  resolution  had  been  some  time  taken,  and 
Friendly,  with  a  warrant  and  a  constable,  had  with  the 
utmost  diligence  searched  several  days  for  our  hero ; 
but  whether  it  was  that  in  compliance  with  modern  cus- 
tom he  had  retired  to  spend  the  honeymoon  with  his 
bride,  the  only  moon,  indeed,  in  which  it  is  fashionable 
or  customary  for  the  married  parties  to  have  any  cor- 
respondence with  each  other  ;  or  perhaps  his  habitation 
might  for  particular  reasons  be  usually  kept  a  secret, 
like  those  of  some  few  great  men  whom  unfortunately 
the  law  hath  left  out  of  that  reasonable  as  well  as  hon- 
orable provision  which  it  hath  made  for  the  security  of 
the  persons  of  other  great  men. 

But  Wild  resolved  to  perform  works  of  supereroga- 
tion in  the  way  of  honor,  and,  though  no  hero  is  obliged 
to  answer  to  the  challenge  of  my  lord  chief  justice,  or 
indeed  of  any  other  magistrate,  but  may  with  unblem- 
ished reputation  slide  away  from  it,  yet  such  was  the 
bravery,  such  the  greatness,  the  magnanimity  of  Wild, 
that  he  appeared  in  person  to  it. 

Indeed  envy  may  say  one  thing,  which  may  lessen  the 
glory  of  this  action,  namely,  that  the  said  Mr.  Wild  knew 
nothing  of  the  said  warrant  or  challenge ;  and  as  thou 
mayest  be  assured,  reader,  that  the  malicious  fury  will 
omit  nothing  which  can  anyways  sully  so  great  a  char- 
acter so  she  hath  endeavored  to  account  for  this  second 
visit  of  our  hero  to  his  friend  Heartfree  from  a  very  dif- 
ferent motive  than  that  of  asserting  his  own  innocence. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  127 


CHAPTER  X. 

Mr.  Wild  with  unprecedented  generosity  visits  his  friend  Heartfree, 
and  the  ungrateful  reception  he  met  with. 

It  hath  been  said  then  that  Mr.  Wild,  not  being-  able 
on  the  strictest  examination  to  find  in  a  certain  spot  of 
human  nature  called  his  own  heart  the  least  grain  of  that 
pitiful  low  quality  called  honesty,  had  resolved,  perhaps 
a  little  too  generally,  that  there  was  no  such  thing.  He 
therefore  imputed  the  resolution  with  which  Mr.  Heart- 
free  had  so  positively  refused  to  concern  himself  in  mur- 
der, either  to  a  fear  of  bloodying  his  hands  or  the  appre- 
hension of  a  ghost,  or  lest  he  should  make  an  additional 
example  in  that  excellent  book  called  God's  Revenge 
against  Murder ;  and  doubted  not  but  he  would  (at  least 
in  his  present  necessity)  agree  without  scruple  to  a  simple 
robbery,  especially  where  any  considerable  booty  should 
be  proposed  and  the  safety  of  the  attack  plausibly  made 
to  appear,  which  if  he  could  prevail  on  him  to  undertake, 
he  would  immediately  afterwards  get  him  impeached, 
convicted,  and  hanged.  He  no  sooner  therefore  had  dis- 
charged his  duties  to  Hymen,  and  heard  that  Heartf ree 
had  procured  himself  the  liberties  of  the  Fleet,  than  he 
resolved  to  visit  him,  and  to  propose  a  robbery  with  all 
the  allurements  of  profit,  ease  and  safety. 

This  proposal  was  no  sooner  made  than  it  was  answered 
by  Heartfree  in  the  following  manner  : 

"I  might  have  hoped  the  answer  which  I  gave  to  your 
former  advice  would  have  prevented  me  from  the  danger 
of  receiving  a  second  affront  of  this  kind.  An  affront  I 
call  it,  and  surely,  if  it  be  so  to  call  a  man  a  villain,  it  can 
be  no  less  to  show  hirn  you  suppose  him  one.  Indeed,  it 
may  be  wondered  how  any  man  can  arrive  at  the  bold- 
ness, I  may  say  impudence,  of  first  making  such  an 
overture  to  another ;  surely  it  is  seldom  done,  unless  to 


128  JONATHAN  WILD. 

those  who  have  previously  betrayed  some  symptoms  of 
their  own  baseness.  If  I  have  therefore  shown  you  any 
such,  these  insults  are  more  pardonable ;  but  I  assure 
you,  if  such  appear,  they  discharge  all  their  malignance 
outwardly,  and  reflect  not  even  a  shadow  within ;  for  to 
me  baseness  seems  inconsistent  with  this  rule,  of  doing 

NO   OTHER  PERSON   AN    INJURY  FROM   ANY   MOTIVE  OR  ON 

any  consideration  whatever.  This,  sir,  is  the  rule  by 
which  I  am  determined  to  walk,  nor  can  that  man  justify 
disbelieving  me  who  will  not  own  he  walks  not  by  it  him- 
self. But,  whether  it  be  allowed  to  me  or  no,  or  whether 
I  feel  the  good  effects  of  its  being  practised  by  others,  I 
am  resolved  to  maintain  it ;  for  surely  no  man  can  reap  a 
benefit  from  my  pursuing  it  equal  to  the  comfort  I  myself 
enjoy  :  for  what  a  ravishing  thought,  how  replete  with 
ecstasy,  must  the  consideration  be,  that  Almighty  Good- 
ness is  by  its  own  nature  engaged  to  reward  me  !  How 
hidifferent  must  such  a  persuasion  make  a  man  to  all  the 
occurrences  of  this  life  !  What  trifles  must  he  represent 
to  himself  both  the  enjoyments  and  the  afflictions  of  this 
world  !  How  easily  must  he  acquiesce  under  missing  the 
former,  and  how  patiently  will  he  submit  to  the  latter, 
who  is  convinced  that  his  failing  of  a  transitory  imperfect 
reward  here  is  a  most  certain  argument  of  his  obtaining 
one  permanent  and  complete  hereafter  !  Dost  thou  think 
then,  thou  little,  paltry,  mean  animal  "  (with  such  lan- 
guage did  he  treat  our  truly  great  man),  "that  I  will 
forego  such  comfortable  expectations  for  any  pitiful 
reward  which  thou  canst  suggest  or  promise  to  me ;  for 
that  sordid  lucre  for  which  all  pains  and  labor  are  under- 
taken by  the  industrious,  and  all  barbarities  and  iniquities 
committed  by  the  vile ;  for  a  worthless  acquisition,  which 
such  as  thou  art  can  possess,  can  give,  or  can  takeaway?" 
The  former  part  of  this  speech  occasioned  much  yawning 
in  our  hero,  but  the  latter  roused  his  anger ;  and  he  was 
collecting  his  rage  to  answer,  when  Friendly  and  the  con- 
stable, who  had  been  summoned  by  Heartfree  on  Wild's 


JONATHAN  WILD.  129 

first  appearance,  entered  the  room,  and  seized  the  great 
man  just  as  his  wrath  was  bursting  from  his  lips. 

The  dialogue  which  now  ensued  is  not  worth  relating : 
Wild  was  soon  acquainted  with  the  reason  of  this  rough 
treatment,  and  presently  conveyed  before  a  magistrate. 

Notwithstanding  the  doubts  raised  by  Mr.  Wild's  law- 
yer on  his  examination,  he  insisting  that  the  proceeding 
was  improper,  for  that  a  writ  de  homine  replegiando 
should  issue,  and  on  the  return  of  that  a  capias  in  wither- 
nam, the  justice  inclined  to  commitment,  so  that  Wild 
was  driven  to  other  methods  for  his  defense.  He  there- 
fore acquainted  the  justice  that  there  was  a  young  man 
likewise  with  him  in  the  boat,  and  begged  that  he  might 
be  sent  for,  which  request  was  accordingly  granted,  and 
the  faithful  Achates  (Mr.  Fireblood)  was  soon  produced 
to  bear  testimony  for  his  friend,  which  he  did  with  so 
much  becoming  zeal,  and  went  through  his  examination 
with  such  coherence  (though  he  was  forced  to  collect  his 
evidence  from  the  hints  given  him  by  Wild  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  justice  and  the  accusers),  that,  as  here  was 
direct  evidence  against  mere  presumption,  our  hero  was 
most  honorably  acquitted,  and  poor  Heartfree  was 
charged  by  the  justice,  the  audience,  and  all  others  who 
afterwards  heard  the  story,  with  the  blackest  ingratitude, 
in  attempting  to  take  away  the  life  of  a  man  to  whom  he 
had  such  eminent  obligations. 

Lest  so  vast  an  effort  of  friendship  as  this  of  Fireblood's 
should  too  violently  surprise  the  reader  in  this  degenerate 
age,  it  may  be  proper  to  inform  him  that  beside  the  ties 
of  engagement  in  the  same  emploj7,  another  nearer  and 
stronger  alliance  subsisted  between  our  hero  and  this 
youth,  which  latter  was  just  departed  from  the  arms  of 
the  lovely  Lastitia  when  he  received  her  husband's  mes- 
sage ;  an  instance  which  may  also  serve  to  justify  those 
strict  intercourses  of  love  and  acquaintance  which  so  com- 
monly subsist  in  modern  history  between  the  husband  and 
gallant,  displaying  the  vast  force  of  friendship  contracted 


L30  JONATHAN   WILD. 

by  this  more  honorable  than  legal  alliance,  which  is  thought 
to  be  at  present  one  of  the  strongest  bonds  of  amity 
between  great  men,  and  the  most  reputable  as  well  as 
easy  way  to  their  favor. 

Four  months  had  now  passed  since  Heartfree's  first 
confinement,  and  his  affairs  had  begun  to  wear  a  more 
benign  aspect ;  but  they  were  a  good  deal  injured  by  this 
attempt  on  Wild  (so  dangerous  is  any  attack  on  a  great 
man),  several  of  his  neighbors,  and  particularly  one  or 
two  of  his  own  trade,  industriously  endeavoring,  from 
their  bitter  animosity  against  such  kind  of  iniquity,  to 
spread  and  exaggerate  his  ingratitude  as  much  as  possible; 
not  in  the  least  scrupling,  in  the  violent  ardor  of  their 
indignation,  to  add  some  small  circumstances  of  their 
own  knowledge  of  the  many  obligations  conferred  on 
Heartfree  by  Wild.  To  all  these  scandals  he  quietly  sub- 
mitted, comforting  himself  in  the  consciousness  of  his  own 
innocence,  and  confiding  in  time,  the  sure  friend  of  justice, 
to  acquit  him. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

A  scheme  so  deeply  laid,  that  it  shames  all  the  politics  of  this  our 
age  ;  with  digression  and  subdigression. 

Wild  having  now,  to  the  hatred  he  bore  Heartfree  on 
account  of  those  injuries  he  had  done  him,  an  additional 
spur  from  this  injury  received  (for  so  it  appeared  to  him, 
who,  no  more  than  the  most  ignorant,  considered  how 
truly  he  deserved  it),  applied  his  utmost  industry  to 
accomplish  the  ruin  of  one  whose  very  name  sounded 
odious  in  his  ears ;  when  luckily  a  scheme  arose  in  his 
imagination  which  not  only  promised  to  effect  it  securely, 
but  (which  pleased  him  most)  by  means  of  the  mischief 
he  had  already  done  him ;  and  which  would  at  once  load 
him  with  the  imputation  of  having  committed  what  he 


JONATHAN  WILD.  131 

himself  had  done  to  him,  and  would  bring-  on  him  the 
severest  punishment  for  a  fact  of  which  he  was  not  only 
innocent,  but  had  already  so  greatly  suffered  by.  And  this 
was  no  other  than  to  charge  him  with  having  conveyed 
away  his  wife,  with  his  most  valuable  effects,  in  order  to 
defraud  his  creditors. 

He  no  sooner  started  this  thought  than  he  immediately 
resolved  on  putting  it  in  execution.  What  remained  to 
consider  was  only  the  quomodo,  and  the  person  or  tool 
to  be  employed  ;  for  the  stage  of  the  world  differs  from 
that  in  Drury-lane  principally  in  this — that  whereas,  on 
the  latter,  the  hero  or  chief  figure  is  almost  continually 
before  your  eyes,  whilst  the  under-actors  are  not  seen 
above  once  in  an  evening  ;  now,  on  the  former,  the  hero 
or  great  man  is  always  behind  the  curtain,  and  seldom  or 
never  appears  or  doth  anything  in  his  own  person.  He 
doth  indeed,  in  this  grand  drama,  rather  perform  the 
part  of  the  prompter,  and  doth  instruct  the  well-dressed 
figures,  who  are  strutting  in  public  on  the  stage,  what  to 
say  and  do.  To  say  the  truth,  a  puppet  show  will  illus- 
trate our  meaning  better,  where  it  is  the  master  of  the 
show  (the  great  man)  who  dances  and  moves  everything, 
whether  it  be  the  king  of  Muscovy  or  whatever  other 
potentate  alias  puppet  which  we  behold  on  the  stage ;  but 
he  himself  keeps  wisely  out  of  sight,  for,  should  he  once 
appear,  the  whole  motion  would  be  at  an  end.  Not  that 
anyone  is  ignorant  of  his  being  there,  or  supposes  that 
the  puppets  are  not  mere  sticks  of  wood,  and  he  himself 
the  sole  mover ;  but  as  this  (though  every  one  knows  it) 
doth  not  appear  visibly,  i.  e.  to  their  eyes,  no  one  is 
ashamed  of  consenting  to  be  imposed  upon ;  of  helping 
on  the  drama,  by  calling  the  several  sticks  or  puppets  by 
the  names  which  the  master  hath  allotted  to  them,  and 
by  assigning  to  each  the  character  which  the  great  man 
is  pleased  they  shall  move  in,  or  rather  in  which  he  him- 
self is  pleased  to  move  them. 

It  would  be  to  suppose  thee,  gentle  reader,  one  of  very 


132  JONATHAN  WILD. 

little  knowledge  in  this  world,  to  imagine  thou  hast  never 
seen  some  of  these  puppet-shows  which  are  so  frequently 
acted  on  the  great  stage  ;  but  though  thou  shouldst  have 
resided  all  thy  days  in  those  remote  parts  of  this  island 
which  great  men  seldom  visit,  yet  if  thou  hast  any  pene- 
tration, thou  must  have  had  some  occasions  to  admire 
both  the  solemnity  of  countenance  in  the  actor  and  the 
gravity  in  the  spectator,  while  some  of  those  farces  are 
carried  on  which  are  acted  almost  daily  in  every  village 
in  the  kingdom.  He  must  have  a  very  despicable  opinion 
of  mankind  indeed  who  can  conceive  them  to  be  imposed 
on  as  often  as  they  appear  to  be  so.  The  truth  is,  they 
are  in  the  same  situation  with  the  readers  of  romances  ; 
who,  though  they  know  the  whole  to  be  one  entire  fiction, 
nevertheless  agree  to  be  deceived;  and,  as  these  find 
amusement,  so  do  the  others  find  ease  and  convenience  in 
this  concurrence.  But,  this  being  a  subdigression,  I 
return  to  my  digression. 

A  great  man  ought  to  do  his  business  by  others ;  to 
employ  hands,  as  we  have  before  said,  to  his  purposes, 
and  keep  himself  as  much  behind  the  curtain  as  possible ; 
and  though  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  two  very  great 
men,  whose  names  will  be  both  recorded  in  history,  did 
in  these  latter  times  come  forth  themselves  on  the  stage, 
and  did  hack  and  hew  and  lay  each  other  most  cruelly 
open  to  the  diversion  of  the  spectators,  yet  this  must  be 
mentioned  rather  as  an  example  of  avoidance  than 
imitation,  and  is  to  be  ascribed  to  the  number  of  those  in- 
stances which  serve  to  evince  the  truth  of  these  maxims  : 
Nemo  mortalium  omnibus  horis  sapit.  Ira  furor 
brevis  est,  &c. 


JONATHAN   WILD.  133 

CHAPTER    XII. 

New  instances  of  Friendly' s  folly ;  &c. 

To  return  to  my  history,  which,  having-  rested  itself  a 
little,  is  now  ready  to  proceed  on  its  journey  :  Fireblood 
was  the  person  chosed  by  Wild  for  this  service.  He  had, 
on  a  late  occasion,  experienced  the  talents  of  this  youth 
for  a  good  round  perjury.  He  immediately,  therefore, 
found  him  out,  and  proposed  it  to  him  ;  when,  receiving 
his  instant  assent,  they  consulted  together,  and  soon 
framed  an  evidence,  which,  being  communicated  to  one  of 
the  most  bitter  and  severe  creditors  of  Heartfree,  by  him 
laid  before  a  magistrate,  and  attested  by  the  oath  of 
Fireblood,  the  justice  granted  his  warrant ;  and  Heart- 
free  was  according  apprehended  and  brought  before 
him. 

When  the  officers  came  for  this  poor  wretch  they  found 
him  meanly  diverting  himself  with  his  little  children,  the 
younger  of  whom  sat  on  his  knees,  and  the  elder  was 
playing  at  a  little  distance  from  him  with  Friendly.  One 
of  the  officers,  who  was  a  very  good  sort  of  a  man,  but 
one  very  laudably  severe  in  his  office,  after  acquainting 
Heartfree  with  his  errand,  bade  him  come  along  and  be 
d — d,  and  leave  those  little  bastards,  for  so,  he  said,  he 
supposed  they  were,  for  a  legacy  to  the  parish.  Heart- 
free  was  much  surprised  at  hearing  there  was  a  warrant 
for  felony  against  him ;  but  he  showed  less  concern  than 
Friendly  did  in  his  countenance.  The  elder  daughter, 
when  she  saw  the  officer  lay  hold  on  her  father,  immedi- 
ately quitted  her  play,  and,  running  to  him  and  bursting 
into  tears,  cried  out,  "  You  shall  not  hurt  poor  papa." 
One  of  the  other  ruffians  offered  to  take  the  little  one 
rudely  from  his  knees ;  but  Heartfree  started  up,  and 
catching  the  fellow  by  the  collar,  dashed  his  head  so 
violently  against  the  wall,  that,  had  he  had  any  brains, 
he  might  possibly  have  lost  them  b}^  the  blow. 


134  JONATHAN  WILD. 

The  officer,  like  most  of  those  heroic  spirits  who  insult 
men  in  adversity,  had  some  prudence  mixed  with  his  zeal 
for  justice.  Seeing,  therefore,  this  rough  treatment  of 
his  companion,  he  began  to  pursue  more  gentle  methods, 
and  very  civilly  desired  Mr.  Heartfree  to  go  with  him, 
seeing  he  was  an  officer,  and  obliged  to  execute  his  war- 
rant ;  that  he  was  sorry  for  his  misfortune,  and  hoped  he 
would  be  acquitted.  The  other  answered,  "  He  should 
patiently  submit  to  the  laws  of  his  country,  and  would 
attend  him  whither  he  was  ordered  to  conduct  him ;  " 
then,  taking  leave  of  his  children  with  a  tender  kiss,  he 
recommended  them  to  the  care  of  Friendly,  who  promised 
to  see  them  safe  home,  and  then  to  attend  him  at  the  jus- 
tice's, whose  name  and  abode  he  had  learned  of  the  con- 
stable. 

Friendly  arrived  at  the  magistrate's  house  just  as  that 
gentleman  had  signed  the  mittimus  against  his  friend ; 
for  the  evidence  of  Fireblood  was  so  clear  and  strong,  and 
the  justice  was  so  incensed  against  Heartfree,  and  so  con- 
vinced of  his  guilt,  that  he  would  hardly  hear  him  speak 
in  his  own  defense,  which  the  reader  perhaps,  when  he 
hears  the  evidence  against  him,  will  be  less  inclined  to 
censure ;  for  this  witness  deposed,  "  That  he  had  been,  by 
Heartfree  himself,  employed  to  carry  the  orders  of  em. 
bezzling  to  Wild,  in  order  to  be  delivered  to  his  wife ;  that 
he  had  been  afterwards  present  with  Wild  and  her  at  the 
inn  when  they  took  coach  for  Harwich,  where  she  showed 
him  the  casket  of  jewels,  and  desired  him  to  tell  her  hus- 
band that  she  had  fully  executed  his  command  ;  and  this 
he  swore  to  have  been  done  after  Heartfree  had  notice  of 
the  commission,  and,  in  order  to  bring  it  within  that  time, 
Fireblood,  as  well  as  Wild,  swore  that  Mrs.  Heartfree  lay 
several  days  concealed  at  Wild's  house  before  her  depar- 
ture for  Holland." 

When  Friendly  found  the  justice  obdurate,  and  that  all 
he  could  say  had  no  effect,  nor  was  it  in  any  way  possi- 
ble for  Heartfree  to  escape  being  committed  to  Newgate, 


JONATHAN  WILD.  135 

he  resolved  to  accompany  him  thither ;  where,  when  they 
arrived,  the  turnkey  would  have  confined  Heartfree  (he 
having"  no  money)  among-  the  common  felons;  hut  Friendly 
would  not  permit  it,  and  advanced  every  shilling  he  had  in 
his  pocket,  to  procure  a  room  in  the  press-yard  for  his 
friend,  which  indeed,  through  the  humanity  of  the  keeper, 
he  did  at  a  cheap  rate. 

They  spent  that  day  together,  and  in  the  evening-  the 
prisoner  dismissed  his  friend,  desiring  him,  after  many 
thanks  for  his  fidelity,  to  he  comforted  on  his  account. 
"I  know  not,"  says  he,  "  how  far  the  malice  of  my  enemy 
will  prevail ;  but  whatever  my  sufferings  are,  I  am  con- 
vinced my  innocence  will  somewhere  be  rewarded.  If, 
therefore,  any  fatal  accident  should  happen  to  me  (for  he 
who  is  in  the  hands  of  perjury  may  apprehend  the  worst), 
my  dear  Friendly,  be  a  father  to  my  poor  children  ;  "  at 
which  words  the  tears  gushed  from  his  eyes.  The  other 
begged  him  not  to  admit  any  such  apprehensions,  for  that 
he  would  employ  his  utmost  diligence  in  his  service,  and 
doubted  not  but  to  subvert  any  villainous  design  laid  for 
his  destruction,  and  to  make  his  innocence  appear  to  the 
world  as  white  as  it  was  in  his  own  opinion. 

We  cannot  help  mentioning  a  circumstance  here,  though 
we  doubt  it  will  appear  very  unnatural  and  incredible  to 
cur  reader  ;  which  is,  that,  notwithstanding  the  former 
character  and  behavior  of  Heartfree,  this  story  of  his 
embezzling  was  so  far  from  surprising  his  neighbors,  that 
many  of  them  declared  they  expected  no  better  from  him. 
Some  were  assured  he  could  pay  forty  shillings  in  the 
pound  if  he  would.  Others  had  overheard  hints  formerly 
pass  between  him  and  Mrs.  Heartfree  which  had  given 
them  suspicions.  And  what  is  most  astonishing  of  all  is, 
that  many  of  those  who  had  before  censured  him  for  an 
extravagant  heedless  fool  now  no  less  confidently  abused 
him  for  a  cunning,  tricking,  avaricious  knave. 


136  JONATHAN  WILD. 


CHAPTER  XIIL 

Something  concerning  Fireblood,  which  will  surprise;  and  somewhat 
touching  one  of  the  Miss  Snaps,  which  will  greatly  concern  the 
reader. 

However,  notwithstanding"  all  these  censures  abroad, 
and  in  despite  uf  all  his  misfortunes  at  home,  Heartfree 
in  Newgate  enjo3^ed  a  quiet,  undisturbed  repose;  while 
our  hero,  nobly  disdaining  rest,  lay  sleepless  all  night, 
partly  from  the  apprehensions  of  Mrs.  Heartfree's  return 
before  he  had  executed  his  scheme,  and  partly  from  a 
suspicion  lest  Fireblood  should  betray  him  ;  of  whose  in- 
fidelity he  had,  nevertheless,  no  other  cause  to  maintain 
any  fear,  but  from  his  knowing  him  to  be  an  accomplished 
rascal  as  the  vulgar  term  it,  a  complete  great  man  in 
our  language.  And  indeed,  to  confess  the  truth,  these 
doubts  were  not  without  some  foundation,  for  the  very 
same  thought  unluckily  entered  the  head  of  that  noble 
youth,  who  considered  whether  he  might  not  possibly  sell 
himself  for  some  advantage  to  the  other  side,  as  he  had 
yet  no  promise  from  Wild ;  but  this  was,  by  the  sagacit}T 
of  the  latter,  prevented  in  the  morning  with  a  profusion 
of  promises,  which  showed  him  to  be  of  the  most  generous 
temper  in  the  world,  with  which  Fireblood  was  extremely 
well  satisfied,  and  made  use  of  so  many  protestations  of 
his  faithfulness  that  he  convinced  Wild  of  the  injustice  of 
his  suspicions. 

At  this  time  an  accident  happened,  which,  though  it  did 
not  immediately  affect  our  hero,  we  cannot  avoid  relating, 
as  it  occasioned  great  confusion  in  his  family,  as  well  as 
in  the  family  of  Snap.  It  is  indeed  a  calamity  highly  to 
be  lamented,  when  it  stains  untainted  blood,  and  happens 
to  an  honorable  house — an  injury  never  to  be  repaired — a 
blot  never  to  be  wiped  out — a  sore  never  to  be  healed.  To 
detain  my  reader  no  longer,  Miss  Thcodosia  Snap  was 


JONATHAN  WILD.  137 

now  safely  delivered  of  a  male  infant,  the  product  of  an 
amour  which  that  beautiful  (O  that  I  could  say  virtuous!) 
creature  had  with  the  count. 

Mr.  Wild  and  his  lady  were  at  breakfast  when  Mr. 
Snap,  with  all  the  agonies  of  despair  both  in  his  voice  and 
countenance,  brought  them  this  melancholy  news.  Our 
hero,  who  had  (as  we  have  said)  wonderful  good-nature 
when  his  greatness  or  interest  was  not  concerned,  instead 
reviling  his  sister-in-law,  asked  with  a  smile,  "  Who  was 
the  father?"  But  the  chaste  Lastitia,  we  repeat  the 
chaste,  for  well  did  she  now  deserve  that  epithet,  received 
it  in  another  manner.  She  fell  into  the  utmost  fury  at  the 
relation,  reviled  her  sister  in  the  bitterest  terms,  and 
vowed  she  would  never  see  nor  speak  to  her  more  ;  then 
burst  into  tears,  and  lamented  over  her  father  that  such 
dishonor  should  ever  happen  to  him  and  herself.  At 
length  she  fell  severely  on  her  husband  for  the  light  treat- 
ment which  he  gave  this  fatal  accident.  She  told  him  he 
was  unworthy  of  the  honor  he  enjoyed  of  marrying  into  a 
chaste  family.  That  she  looked  on  it  as  an  affront  to  her 
virtue.  That  if  he  had  married  one  of  the  naughty  hus- 
sies of  the  town  he  could  have  behaved  to  her  in  no  other 
manner.  She  concluded  with  desiring  her  father  to  make 
an  example  of  the  slut,  and  to  turn  her  out  of  doors ;  for 
that  she  would  not  otherwise  enter  his  house,  being  re- 
solved never  to  set  her  foot  within  the  same  threshold 
with  the  trollop,  whom  she  detested  so  much  the  more 
because  (which  was  perhaps  true)  she  was  her  own  sister. 

So  violent^  and  indeed  so  outrageous,  was  this  chaste 
lady's  love  of  virtue,  that  she  could  not  forgive  a  single 
slip  (indeed  the  only  one  Theodosia  had  ever  made)  in  her 
own  sister,  in  a  sister  who  loved  her,  and  to  whom  she 
owed  a  thousand  obligations. 

Perhaps  the  severity  of  Mr.  Snap,  who  greatly  felt  the 
injury  done  to  the  honor  of  his  family,  would  have  re- 
lented, had  not  the  parish  officers  been  extremely  pressing 
on  this  occasion,  and  for  want  of  security,  conveyed  the 


138  JONATHAN  WILD. 

unhappy  young  lady  to  a  place,  the  name  of  which,  for 
the  honor  of  the  Snaps,  to  whom  our  hero  was  so  nearly 
allied,  we  bury  in  eternal  oblivion ;  where  she  suffered  so 
much  correction  for  her  crime,  that  the  good-natured 
reader  of  the  male  kind  may  be  inclined  to  compassionate 
her,  at  least  to  imagine  she  was  sufficiently  punished  for 
a  fault  which,  with  submission  to  the  chaste  Lsetitia  and 
all  other  strictly  virtuous  ladies,  it  should  be  either  less 
criminal  in  a  woman  to  commit,  or  more  so  in  a  man  to 
solicit  her  to  it. 

But  to  return  to  our  hero,  who  was  a  living  and  strong 
instance  that  human  greatness  and  happiness  are  not  al- 
ways inseparable.  He  was  under  a  continual  alarm  of 
frights,  and  fears,  and  jealousies.  He  thought  every 
man  he  beheld  wore  a  knife  for  his  throat,  and  a  pair  of 
scissors  for  his  purse.  As  for  his  own  gang  particularly, 
he  was  thoroughly  convinced  there  was  not  a  single  man 
amongst  them  who  would  not,  for  the  value  of  five  shil- 
lings, bring  him  to  the  gallows.  These  apprehensions  so 
constantly  broke  his  rest,  and  kept  him  so  assiduously  on 
his  guard  to  frustrate  and  circumvent  any  designs  which 
might  be  formed  against  him,  that  his  condition,  to  any 
other  than  the  glorious  eye  of  ambition,  might  seem 
rather  deplorable  than  the  object  of  envy  or  desire. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

In  which  our  hero  makes  a  speech  well  worthy  to  be  celebrated  ;  and 
the  behavior  of  one  of  the  gang,  perhaps  more  unnatural  than 
any  other  part  of  this  history. 

There  was  in  the  gang  a  man  named  Blueskin,  one  of 
those  merchants  who  trade  in  dead  oxen,  sheep,  &c,  in 
short,  what  the  vulgar  call  a  butcher.  This  gentleman 
had  two  qualities  of  a  great  man,  viz.:  undaunted  courage, 
and  an  absolute  contempt  of  those  ridiculous  distinctions 


JONATHAN   WILD.  139 

of  meum  and  tuum,  which  would  cause  endless  disputes, 
did  not  the  law  happily  decide  them  hy  converting1  both 
into  suum.  The  common  form  of  exchanging  property 
by  trade  seemed  to  him  too  tedious  ;  he  therefore  resolved 
to  quit  the  mercantile  profession,  and,  falling  acquainted 
with  some  of  Mr.  Wild's  people,  he  provided  himself 
with  arms,  and  enlisted  of  the  gang ;  in  which  he  behaved 
for  some  time  with  great  decency  and  order,  and  submitted 
to  accept  such  share  of  the  booty  with  the  rest  as  our 
hero  allotted  him. 

But  this  subserviency  agreed  ill  with  his  temper;  for  we 
should  have  before  remembered  a  third  heroic  quality, 
namely,  ambition,  which  was  no  inconsiderable  part  of 
his  composition.  One  day,  therefore,  having  robbed  a 
gentleman  at  Windsor  of  a  gold  watch,  which,  on  its 
being  advertised  in  the  newspapers,  with  a  considerable 
reward,  was  demanded  of  him  by  Wild,  he  peremptorily 
refused  to  deliver  it. 

"How,  Mr.  Blueskin?"  says  Wild  ;  "you  will  not  de- 
liver the  watch?" — "No,  Mr.  Wild,"  answered  he;  "I 
have  taken  it,  and  will  keep  it;  or,  if  I  dispose  of  it,  I  will 
dispose  of  it  myself,  and  keep  the  money  for  which  I  sell 
it." — "Sure,"  replied  Wild,  "you  have  not  the  assurance 
to  pretend  you  have  any  property  or  right  in  this  watch  ?" 
— "I  am  certain,"  returned  Blueskin,  "whether  I  have 
any  right  in  it  or  no,  you  can  prove  none."  "I  will  under- 
take," cries  the  other,  "to  show  I  have  an  absolute  right 
to  it,  and  that  by  the  laws  of  our  gang,  of  which  I  am 
providentially  at  the  head." — "I  know  not  who  put  you 
at  the  head  of  it,"  cries  Blueskin;  "but  those  who  did  cer- 
tainly did  it  for  their  own  good,  that  you  might  conduct 
them  the  better  in  their  robberies,  inform  them  of  the 
richest  booties,  prevent  surprises,  pack  juries,  bribe  evi- 
dence, and  so  contribute  to  their  benefit  and  safety;  and 
not  to  convert  all  their  labor  and  hazard  to  your  own 
benefit  and  advantage." — "You  are  greatly  mistaken, 
sir,"  answered  Wild;  "you  are  talking  of  a  legal  society, 


HO  JONATHAN  WILD. 

where  the  chief  magistrate  is  always  chosen  for  the  pub- 
lic good,  which,  as  we  see  in  all  the  legal  societies  of  the 
world,  he  constantly  consults,  daily  contributing,  by  his 
superior  skill,  to  their  prosperity,  and  not  sacrificing 
their  good  to  his  own  wealth,  or  pleasure,  or  humor:  but 
in  an  illegal  society  or  gang,  as  this  of  ours,  it  is  other- 
wise; for  who  would  be  at  the  head  of  a  gang,  unless  for 
his  own  interest  ?  And  without  a  head,  you  know,  you 
cannot  subsist.  Nothing  but  a  head,  and  obedience  to 
that  head,  can  preserve  a  gang  a  moment  from  destruc- 
tion. It  is  absolutely  better  for  you  to  content  yourselves 
with  a  moderate  reward,  and  enjoy  that  in  safety  at  the 
disposal  of  your  chief,  than  to  engross  the  whole  with  the 
hazard  to  which  you  will  be  liable  without  his  protection. 
And  surely  there  is  none  in  the  whole  gang  who  has  less 
reason  to  complain  than  you;  you  have  tasted  of  my 
favors:  witness  that  piece  of  ribbon  you  wear  in  your  hat, 
with  which  I  dubbed  you  captain.  Therefore  pray,  cap- 
tain, deliver  the  watch." — "D — n  your  cajoling,"  says 
Blueskin;  "do  you  think  I  value  myself  on  this  bit  of  rib- 
bon, which  I  could  have  bought  myself  for  sixpence,  and 
have  worn  without  your  leave  ?  Do  you  imagine  I  think 
myself  a  captain  because  you,  whom  I  know  not  em- 
powered to  make  one,  call  me  so  ?  The  name  of  captain 
is  but  a  shadow:  the  men  and  the  salary  are  the  sub- 
stance; and  I  am  not  to  be  bubbled  with  a  shadow.  I 
will  be  called  captain  no  longer,  and  he  who  flatters  me 
by  that  name  I  shall  think  affronts  me,  and  I  will  knock 
him  down,  I  assure  you."  "Did  ever  man  talk  so  un- 
reasonably?" cries  Wild.  "Are  you  not  respected  as  a 
captain  by  the  whole  gang  since  my  dubbing  you  so  ? 
But  it  is  the  shadow  only,  it  seems;  and  you  will  knock  a 
man  down  for  affronting  you  who  calls  you  captain ! 
Might  not  a  man  as  reasonably  tell  a  Minister  of  State, 
Sir,  you  have  given  me  the  shadow  only  ?  The  ribbon  or 
the  bauble  that  you  gave  me  implies  that  I  have  either  sig- 
nalized myself,  by  some  great  action,  for  the  benefit  and 


JONATHAN  WILD.  141 

glory  of  my  countiw,  or  at  least  that  I  am  descended 
from  those  who  have  done  so.  I  know  myself  to  be  a 
scoundrel,  and  so  have  been  those  few  ancestors  I  can  re- 
member, or  have  ever  heard  of.  Therefore,  I  am  resolved  to 
knock  the  first  man  down  who  calls  me  sir  or  right  honor- 
able. But  all  great  and  wise  men  think  themselves  suf- 
ficiently repaid  by  what  procures  them  honor  and  prece- 
dence in  the  gang,  without  inquiring  into  substance;  nay, 
if  a  title  or  a  feather  be  equal  to  this  purpose,  they  are 
substance,  and  not  mere  shadows.  But  I  have  not  time 
to  argue  with  you  at  present,  so  give  me  the  watch  with- 
out any  more  deliberation." — "I  am  no  more  a  friend  to 
deliberation  than  j^ourself,"  answered  Blueskin,  ''and  so 
I  tell  you,  once  for  all,  by  G —  I  never  will  give  you  the 
watch,  no,  nor  will  I  ever  hereafter  surrender  any  part  of 
my  booty.  I  won  it,  and  I  will  wear  it.  Take  your  pis- 
tols yourself,  and  go  out  on  the  highway,  and  don't  lazily 
think  to  fatten  yourself  with  the  dangers  and  pains  of 
other  people."  At  which  words  he  departed  in  a  fierce 
mood,  and  repaired  to  the  tavern  used  by  the  gang  where 
he  had  appointed  to  meet  some  of  his  acquaintance,  whom 
he  informed  of  what  had  passed  between  him  and  Wild, 
and  advised  them  all  to  follow  his  example;  which  they 
all  readily  agreed  to,  and  Mr.  Wild's  d — tion  was  the 
universal  toast;  in  drinking  bumpers  to  which  they  had 
finished  a  large  bowl  of  punch,  when  a  constable,  with  a 
numerous  attendance,  and  Wild  at  their  head,  entered  the 
room  and  seized  on  Blueskin,  whom  his  companions,  when 
they  saw  our  hero,  did  not  dare  attempt  to  rescue.  The 
watch  was  found  upon  him,  which,  together  with  Wild's 
information,  was  more  than  sufficient  to  commit  him  to 
Newgate. 

In  the  evening  Wild  and  the  rest  of  those  who  had  been 
drinking  with  Blueskin  met  at  the  tavern,  where  nothing 
was  to  be  seen  but  the  profoundest  submission  to  their 
leader.  They  vilified  and  a  bused  Blueskin  as  much  as 
they  had  before  abused  our  hero,  and  now  repeated,  the 


142  JONATHAN  WILD. 

same  toast,  only  changing  the  name  of  Wild  into  Blue- 
skin;  all  agreeing  with  Wild  that  the  watch  found  in  his 
pocket,  and  which  must  be  a  fatal  evidence  against  him, 
was  a  just  judgment  on  his  disobedience  and  revolt. 

Thus  did  this  great  man  hy  a  resolute  and  timely  ex- 
ample (for  he  went  directly  to  the  justice  when  Blueskin 
left  him)  quell  one  of  the  most  dangerous  conspiracies 
which  could  possibly  arise  in  a  gang,  and  which,  had  it 
been  permitted  one  day's  growth,  would  inevitably  have 
ended  in  his  destruction;  so  much  doth  it  behove  all  great 
men  to  be  eternally  on  their  guard,  and  expeditious  in 
the  execution  of  their  purposes;  while  none  but  the  weak 
and  honest  can  indulge  themselves  in  remissness  or 
repose. 

The  Achates,  Fireblood,  had  been  present  at  both  these 
meetings;  but,  though  he  had  a  little  too  hastily  concur- 
red in  cursing  his  friend,  and  in  vowing  his  perdition,  yet 
now  he  saw  all  that  scheme  dissolved  he  returned  to  his 
integrity,  of  which  he  gave  an  incontestable  proof,  by  in- 
forming Wild  of  the  measures  which  had  been  concerted 
against  him,  in  which  he  said  he  had  pretended  to  acqui- 
esce in  order  the  better  to  betray  them;  but  this,  as  he 
afterwards  confessed  on  his  death-bed  at  Tyburn,  was 
only  a  copy  of  his  countenance;  for  that  he  was,  at  that 
time,  as  sincere  and  hearty  in  his  opposition  to  Wild  as 
any  of  his  companions. 

Our  hero  received  Fireblood 's  information  with  a  very 
placid  countenance.  He  said,  as  the  gang  had  seen  their 
errors,  and  repented,  nothing  was  more  noble  than  for- 
giveness. But,  though  he  was  pleased  modestly  to 
ascribe  this  to  his  lenity,  it  really  arose  from  much  more 
noble  and  political  principles.  He  considered  that  it 
would  be  dangerous  to  attempt  the  punishment  of  so 
many;  besides,  he  flattered  himself  that  fear  would  keep 
them  in  order:  and  indeed  Fireblood  had  told  him  nothing 
more  than  he  knew  before,  viz.  that  thay  were  all  com- 
plete prigs,  whom  he  was  to  govern  by  their  fears,  and 


JONATHAN   WILD.  143 

in  whom  he  was  to  place  no  more  confidence  than  was 
necessary,  and  to  watch  them  with  the  utmost  caution 
and  circumspection:  for  a  rogue,  he  wisely  said,  like  gun- 
powder, must  he  used  with  caution;  since  both  are  alto- 
gether as  liable  to  blow  up  the  party  himself  who  uses 
them  as  to  execute  his  mischievous  purpose  against  some 
other  person  or  animal. 

We  will  now  repair  to  Newgate,  it  being  the  place 
where  most  of  the  great  men  of  this  history  are  hasten- 
ing as  fast  as  possible;  and,  to  confess  the  truth,  it  is  a 
castle  very  far  from  being  an  improper  or  misbecoming- 
habitation  for  any  great  man  whatever.  And  as  this 
scene  will  continue  during  the  residue  of  our  histoiy,  we 
shall  open  it  with  a  new  book,  and  shall  therefore  take 
this  opportunity  of  closing  our  third. 


144  JONATHAN  WILD. 


BOOK    IV. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A  sentiment  of  the  ordinary's,  worthy  to  be  written  in  letters  of  gold; 
a  very  extraordinary  instance  of  folly  in  Friendly;  and  a  dread- 
ful accident  which  befell  our  hero. 

Heartfree  had  not  been  long  in  Newgate  before  his 
frequent  conversation  with  his  children,  and  other  instan- 
ces of  a  good  heart,  which  betrayed  themselves  in  his  ac- 
tions and  conversation,  created  an  opinion  in  all  about 
him  that  he  was  one  of  the  silliest  fellows  in  the  universe. 
The  ordinary  himself,  a  very  sagacious  as  well  as  very 
worthy  person,  declared  that  he  was  a  cursed  rogue,  but 
no  conjurer. 

What  indeed  might  induce  the  former,  i.e.  the  roguish 
part  of  this  opinion  in  the  ordinary,  was  a  wicked  senti- 
ment which  Heartfree  one  day  disclosed  in  conversation, 
and  which  we,  who  are  truly  orthodox,  will  not  pretend 
to  justify,  that  he  believed  a  sincere  Turk  would  be  saved. 
To  this  the  good  man,  with  becoming  zeal  and  indigna- 
tion, answered,  "  I  know  not  what  may  become  of  a  sin- 
cere Turk;  but,  if  this  be  your  persuasion,  I  pronounce  it 
impossible  you  should  be  saved.  No,  sir;  so  far  from  a 
sincere  Turk's  being  within  the  pale  of  salvation,  neither 
will  any  sincere  Presbyterian,  Anabaptist,  nor  Quaker 
whatever,  be  saved." 

But  neither  did  the  one  nor  the  other  part  of  this  char- 
acter prevail  on  Friendly  to  abandon  his  old  master.  He 
spent  his  whole  time  with  him,  except  only  those  hours 
when  he  was  absent  for  his  sake,  in  procuring  evidence 
for  him  against  his  trial,  which  was  now  shortly  to  come 
on.     Indeed  this  young  man  was  the  only  comfort,  besides 


JONATHAN  WILD.  145 

a  clear  conscience  and  the  hopes  beyond  the  grave,  which 
this  poor  wretch  had;  for  the  sight  of  his  children  was 
like  one  of  those  alluring  pleasures  which  men  in  some 
diseases  indulge  themselves  often  fatally  in,  which  at  once 
flatter  and  heighten  their  malaxty. 

Friendly  being  one  day  present  while  Heartfree  was, 
with  tears  in  his  eyes,  embracing  his  eldest  daughter,  and 
lamenting  the  hard  fate  to  which  he  feared  he  should  be 
obliged  to  leave  her,  spoke  to  him  thus:  "  I  have  long 
observed  with  admiration  the  magnanimity  with  which 
you  go  through  your  own  misfortunes,  and  the  steady 
countenance  with  which  you  look  on  death.  I  have 
observed  that  all  your  agonies  arise  from  the  thoughts  of 
parting  with  your  children,  and  of  leaving  them  in  a  dis- 
tressed condition;  now,  though  I  hope  all  your  fears  will 
prove  ill-grounded,  yet,  that  I  may  relieve  37ou  as  much 
as  possible  from  them,  be  assured  that,  as  nothing  can 
give  me  more  real  misery  than  to  observe  so  tender  and 
loving  a  concern  in  a  master,  to  whose  goodness  I  owe  so 
many  obligations,  and  whom  I  so  sincerely  love,  so 
nothing  can  afford  me  equal  pleasure  with  my  contribut- 
ing to  lessen  or  to  remove  it.  Be  convinced,  therefore,  if 
you  can  place  any  confidence  in  my  promise,  that  I  will 
employ  my  little  fortune,  which  you  know  to  be  not 
entirely  inconsiderable,  in  the  support  of  this  your  little 
family.  Should  any  misfortune,  which  I  pray  Heaven 
avert,  happen  to  you  before  you  have  better  provided  for 
these  little  ones,  I  will  be  myself  their  father,  nor  shall 
either  of  them  ever  know  distress  if  it  be  any  way  in  my 
power  to  prevent  it.  Your  younger  daughter  I  will  pro- 
vide for,  and  as  for  my  little  prattler,  your  elder,  as  I 
never  yet  thought  of  any  woman  for  a  wife,  I  will  receive 
her  as  such  at  your  hands ;  nor  will  I  ever  relinquish  her 
for  another."  Heartfree  flew  to  his  friend,  and  embraced 
him  with  raptures  of  acknowledgment.  He  vowed  to  him 
that  he  had  eased  every  anxious  thought  of  his  mind  but 
one,  and  that  he  must  carry  with  him  out  of  the  world. 


146  JONATHAN  WILD. 

"  O  Friendly  !"  cried  he,  "it  is  my  concern  for  that  best 
of  women,  whom  I  hate  myself  for  having"  ever  censured 
in  my  opinion.  O  Friendty !  thou  didst  know  her  good- 
ness; yet,  sure,  her  perfect  character  none  but  nryself 
was  ever  acquainted  with.  She  had  every  perfection, 
both  of  mind  and  body,  which  heaven  hath  indulged 
to  her  whole  sex,  and  possessed  all  in  a  higher  excel- 
lence than  nature  ever  indulged  to  another  in  any  single 
virtue.  Can  I  bear  the  loss  of  such  a  woman?  Can 
I  bear  the  apprehensions  of  what  mischiefs  that  villain 
may  have  done  to  her,  of  which  death  is  perhaps  the 
lightest?"  Friendly  gently  interrupted  him  as  soon  as 
he  saw  any  opportunity,  endeavoring  to  comfort  him  on 
this  head  likewise,  by  magnifying  every  circumstance 
which  could  possibly  afford  an3r  hopes  of  his  seeing  her 
again. 

By  this  kind  of  behavior,  in  which  the  young  man 
exemplified  so  uncommon  a  height  of  friendship,  he  had 
soon  obtained  in  the  castle  the  character  of  as  odd  and 
silly  a  fellow  as  his  master.  Indeed  they  were  both  the 
byword,  laughing-stock,  and  contempt  of  the  whole  place. 

The  sessions  now  came  on  at  the  Old  Bailey.  The 
grand  jury  at  Hicks's  Hall  had  found  the  bill  of  indict- 
ment against  Heartfree,  and  on  the  second  day  of  the 
session  he  was  brought  to  his  trial ;  where,  notwithstand- 
ing the  utmost  efforts  of  Friendly  and  the  honest  old 
female  servant,  the  circumstances  of  the  fact  corroborat- 
ing the  evidence  of  Fireblood,  as  well  as  that  of  "Wild, 
who  counterfeited  the  most  artful  reluctance  at  appearing 
against  his  old  friend  Heartfree,  the  jury  found  the 
prisoner  guilty. 

Wild  had  now  accomplished  his  scheme  ;  for  as  to  what 
remained,  it  was  certainly  unavoidable,  seeing  that  Heart- 
free  was  entirely  void  of  interest  with  the  great,  and  was 
besides  convicted  on  a  statute  the  infringers  of  which  could 
hope  no  pardon. 

The  catastrophe  to  which  our  hero  has  reduced  this 


JONATHAN   WILD.  147 

wretch  was  so  wonderful  an  effort  of  greatness,  that  it 
probably  made  Fortune  envious  of  her  own  darling- ;  but 
whether  it  was  from  this  envy,  or  onry  from  that  known 
inconstancy  and  weakness  so  often  and  judiciously  re- 
marked in  that  lady's  temper,  who  frequently  lifts  men 
to  the  summit  of  human  greatness,  only 

ut  lapsu  graviore  ruant ; 
certain  it  is,  she  now  began  to  meditate  mischief  against 
Wild,  who  seems  to  have  come  to  that  period  at  which  all 
heroes  have  arrived,  and  which  she  was  resolved  they 
should  never  transcend.  In  short,  there  seems  to  be  a 
certain  measure  of  mischief  and  iniquity  which  every 
great  man  is  to  fill  up,  and  then  Fortune  looks  on  him  of 
no  more  use  than  a  silkworm  whose  bottom  is  spun,  and 
deserts  him.  Mr.  Blueskin  was  convicted  the  same  day 
of  robbery,  by  our  hero,  an  unkindness  which,  though  he 
had  drawn  on  himself,  and  necessitated  him  to,  he  took 
greatly  amiss  :  as  Wild,  therefore,  was  standing  near 
him,  with  that  disregard  and  indifference  which  great 
men  are  too  carelessly  inclined  to  have  for  those  whom 
they  have  ruined,  Blueskin,  privily  drawing  a  knife,  thrust 
the  same  into  the  body  of  our  hero  with  such  violence, 
that  all  who  saw  it  concluded  he  had  done  his  business. 
And,  indeed,  had  not  fortune,  not  so  much  out  of  love  for 
our  hero,  as  from  a  fixed  resolution  to  accomplish  a  certain 
purpose,  of  which  we  have  formerly  given  a  hint,  care- 
fully placed  his  guts  out  of  the  way,  be  must  have  fallen 
a  sacrifice  to  the  wrath  of  his  enemy,  which,  as  he  after- 
wards said,  he  did  not  deserve  ;  for,  had  he  been  content 
to  have  robbed  and  only  submitted  to  give  him  the  booty, 
he  might  have  still  continued  safe  and  unimpeached  in 
the  gang ;  but,  so  it  was,  that  the  knife,  missing  those 
noble  parts  (the  noblest  of  many),  the  guts,  perforated 
only  the  hollow  of  his  belly,  and  caused  no  other  harm 
than  an  immoderate  effusion  of  blood,  of  which,  though 
it  at  present  weakened  him,  he  soon  after  recovered. 
This  accident,  however,  was  in  the  end  attended  with 


148  JONATHAN  WILD. 

worse  consequences  :  for  as  very  few  people  (those  great- 
est of  all  men,  absolute  princes  excepted)  attempt  to  cut 
the  thread  of  human  life,  like  the  fatal  sisters,  merely 
out  of  wantonness  and  for  their  diversion,  but  rather  by 
so  doing  propose  to  themselves  the  acquisition  of  some 
future  good,  or  the  avenging  some  past  evil ;  and  as  the 
former  of  these  motives  did  not  appear  probable,  it  put 
inquisitive  persons  on  examining  into  the  latter.  Now, 
as  the  vast  schemes  of  Wild,  when  they  were  discovered, 
however  great  in  their  nature,  seemed  to  some  persons, 
like  the  projects  of  most  other  such  persons,  rather  to  be 
calculated  for  the  glory  of  the  great  man  himself  than 
to  redound  to  the  general  good  of  society,  designs  began 
to  be  laid  by  several  of  those  who  thought  it  principally 
their  duty  to  put  a  stop  to  the  future  progress  of  our 
hero  ;  and  a  learned  judge  particularly,  a  great  enemy 
to  this  kind  of  greatness,  procured  a  clause  in  an  act  of 
parliament  as  a  trap  for  Wild,  which  he  soon  after  fell 
into.  By  this  law  it  was  made  capital  in  a  prig  to  steal 
with  the  hands  of  other  people.  A  law  so  plainly  calcu- 
lated for  the  destruction  of  all  priggish  greatness,  that 
it  was  impossible  for  our  hero  to  avoid  it. 


CHAPTER  II. 

A  short  hint  concerning  popular  ingratitude.  Mr.  Wild's  arrival 
in  the  castle,  with  other  occurrences  to  be  found  in  no  other 
history. 

If  we  had  any  leisure  we  would  here  digress  a  little  on 
that  ingratitude  which  so  many  writers  have  observed  to 
spring  up  in  the  people  of  all  free  governments  towards 
their  great  men  ;  who  while  they  have  been  consulting 
the  good  of  the  public,  by  raising  their  own  greatness,  in 
which  the  whole  body  (as  the  kingdom  of  France  thinks 
itself  in  the  glory  of  their  grand  monarch)  was  so  deeply 
concerned,  have  been  sometimes  sacrificed  by  those  very 


JONATHAN  WILD.  149 

people  for  whose  glory  the  said  great  men  were  so  indus- 
triously at  work  :  and  this  from  a  foolish  zeal  for  a  cer- 
tain ridiculous  imaginary  thing  called  liberty,  to  which 
great  men  are  observed  to  have  a  great  animosity. 

This  law  had  been  promulgated  a  very  little  time  when 
Mr.  Wild,  having  received  from  some  dutiful  members  of 
the  gang  a  valuable  piece  of  goods,  did,  for  a  consideration 
somewhat  short  of  its  original  price,  reconvey  it  to  the 
right  owner;  for  which  fact,  being  ungratefully  in- 
formed against  by  the  said  owner,  he  was  surprised  in  his 
own  house,  and,  being  overpowered  by  numbers,  was 
hurried  before  a  magistrate,  and  by  him  committed  to 
that  castle,  which,  suitable  as  it  is  to  greatness,  we  do  not 
choose  to  name  too  often  in  our  history,  and  where  many 
great  men  at  this  time  happen  to  be  assembled. 

The  governor,  or,  as  the  law  more  honorably  calls  him, 
keeper  of  this  castle,  was  Mr.  Wild's  old  friend  and 
acquaintance.  This  made  the  latter  greatly  satisfied 
with  the  place  of  his  confinement,  as  he  promised  himself 
not  only  a  kind  reception  and  handsome  accommodation 
there,  but  even  to  obtain  his  liberty  from  him  if  he 
thought  it  necessary  to  desire  it ;  but,  alas  !  he  was  de- 
ceived ;  his  old  friend  knew  him  no  longer,  and  refused 
to  see  him,  and  the  lieutenant-governor  insisted  on  as 
high  garnish  for  fetters,  and  as  exorbitant  a  price  for 
lodging,  as  if  he  had  had  a  fine  gentleman  in  custody  for 
murder,  or  any  other  genteel  crime. 

To  confess  a  melancholy  truth,  it  is  a  circumstance 
much  to  be  lamented,  that  there  is  no  absolute  dependence 
on  the  friendship  of  great  men ;  an  observation  which 
hath  been  frequently  made  by  those  who  have  lived  in 
courts,  or  in  Newgate,  or  in  any  other  place  set  apart  for 
the  habitation  of  such  persons. 

The  second  day  of  his  confinement  he  was  greatly  sur- 
prised at  receiving  a  visit  from  his  wife;  and  much  more 
so,  when,  instead  of  a  countenance  ready  to  insult  him, 
the  only  motive  to  which  he  could  ascribe  her  presence, 


150  JONATHAN  WILD. 

he  saw  the  tears  trickling  down  her  lovely  cheeks.  He 
embraced  her  with  the  utmost  marks  of  affections,  and 
declared  he  could  hardly  regret  his  confinement,  since 
it  had  produced  such  an  instance  of  the  happiness  he  en- 
joyed in  her,  whose  fidelity  to  him  on  this  occasion  would, 
he  believed,  make  him  the  envy  of  most  husbands,  even 
in  Newgate.  He  then  begged  her  to  dry  her  eyes,  and  be 
comforted ;  for  that  matters  might  go  better  with  him 
than  she  expected.  "No,  no,"  says  she,  "I  am  certain 
you  would  be  found  guilty  Death.  I  knew  what  it  would 
always  come  to.  I  told  you  it  was  impossible  to  carry  on 
such  a  trade  long ;  but  you  would  not  be  advised,  and 
now  you  see  the  consequence — now  you  repent  when  it  is 
too  late.  All  the  comfort  I  shall  have  when  you  are 
nubbed*  is,  that  I  gave  you  a  good  advice.  If  you  had 
always  gone  out  by  yourself,  as  I  would  have  had  you,  you 
might  have  robbed  on  to  the  end  of  the  chapter  ;  but  you 
was  wiser  than  all  the  world,  or  rather  lazier,  and  see  what 
your  laziness  is  come  to — to  the  cheat, f  for  thither  you  will 
now  go,  that's  infallible.  And  a  just  judgment  on  you 
for  following  your  headstrong  will ;  I  am  the  only  person 
to  be  pitied ;  poor  I,  who  shall  be  scandalized  for  your 
fault.  There  goes  she  whose  husband  ivas  hanged  :  me- 
thinks  I  hear  them  crying  so  already."  At  which  words 
she  burst  into  tears.  He  could  not  then  forebear  chiding 
her  for  this  unnecessary  concern  on  his  account,  and 
begged  her  not  to  trouble  him  any  more.  She  answered 
with  some  spirit,  "  On  your  account,  and  be  d — d  to  you  ! 
No,  if  the  old  cull  of  a  justice  had  not  sent  me  hither,  I  be- 
lieve it  would  have  been  long  enough  before  I  should  have 
come  hither  to  see  after  3^011 ;  d — n  me,  I  am  committed 
for  the  filing  lay, \  man,  and  we  shall  be  both  nubbed  to- 
gether. I 'faith,  my  dear,  it  almost  makes  me  amends  for 
being  nubbed  myself  to  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  thee 
nubbed  too. — "Indeed,  my  dear,"  answered  Wild,  "it is 
what  I  have  long  wished  for  thee ;  but  I  do  not  desire  to 

*  The  cant  word  for  hanging.  +  The  gallows.  %  Picking  pockets. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  151 

bear  thee  company,  and  I  have  still  hopes  to  have  the 
pleasure  of  seeing-  you  go  without  me  ;  at  least  I  will 
have  the  pleasure  to  be  rid  of  you  now."  And  so  saying, 
he  seized  her  by  the  waist,  and  with  strong  arm  flung  her 
out  of  the  room ;  but  not  before  she  had  with  her  nails 
left  a  bloody  memorial  on  his  cheek ;  and  thus  this  fond 
couple  parted. 

Wild  had  scarce  recovered  himself  from  the  uneasiness 
into  which  this  unwelcome  visit,  proceeding  from  the  dis- 
agreeable fondness  of  his  wife,  had  thrown  him,  than  the 
faithful  Achates  appeared.     The  presence  of  this  youth 
was  indeed  a  cordial  to  his  spirits.     He  received  him  with 
open  arms,   and   expressed  the   utmost  satisfaction   in 
the  fidelity  of  his  friendship,  which  so  far  exceeded   the 
fashion  of  the  times,  and  said  many  things  which  we  have 
forgot  on  the  occasion  ;  but  we  remember  they  all  tended 
to  the  praise  of  Fireblood,  whose  modesty,  at  length,  put 
a  stop  to  the  torrent  of  compliments,  by  asserting  he  had 
done  no  more  than  his  duty,  and  that  he  should  have  de- 
tested himself  could  he  have  forsaken  his  friend  in  his  ad- 
versity;  and,  after  many  protestations  tbxt  he  came  the 
moment  he  heard  of  his  misfortune,  he  asked  him  if  he 
could  be  of  any  service,     Wild  answered,  since  he  had  so 
kindly  proposed  that  question,  he  must  say  he  should  be 
obliged  to  him  if  he  could  lend  him  a  few  guineas ;  for 
that  he  was  very  seedy.     Fireblood  replied  that  he  was 
greatly  unhappy  in  not  having  it  then  in  his  power,  add- 
ing many  oaths  that  he  had  not  a  farthing  of  money  in 
his  pocket,  which  was,  indeed,  strictly  true ;  for  he  had 
only   a  banknote,  which  he  had  that  evening  purloined 
from   a  gentleman   in  the  playhouse  passage.     He  then 
asked  for  his  wife,  to  whom,  to  speak  truly,  the  visit  was 
intended,  her  confinement  being  the  misfortune  of  which 
he  had  just  heard;  for,  as  for  that  of  Mr.  Wild  himself, 
he  had  known  it  from  the  first  minute,  without  ever  in- 
tending to  trouble   him   with  his   company.     Being  in> 
formed  therefore  of  the  visit  which  had  lately  happened, 


152  JONATHAN  WILD. 

he  reproved  Wild  for  his  cruel  treatment  of  that  good 
creature;  then  taking"  as  sudden  a  leave  as  he  civilly 
could  of  the  gentleman,  he  hastened  to  comfort  his  lady, 
who  received  him  with  great  kindness. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Curious  anecdotes  relating  to  the  history  of  Newgate. 

There  resided  in  the  castle  at  the  same  time  with  Mr. 
Wild  one  Roger  Johnson,  a  very  great  man,  who  had 
long  be  en  at  the  head  of  all  the  prigs  in  Newgate,  and  had 
raised  contributions  on  them.  He  examined  into  the 
nature  of  their  defense,  procured  and  instructed  their 
evidence,  and  made  himself,  at  least  in  their  opinion,  so 
necessary  to  them,  that  the  whole  fate  of  Newgate  seemed 
entirely  to  depend  upon  him. 

Wild  had  not  been  long  in  confinement  before  he  began 
to  oppose  this  man.  He  represented  him  to  the  prigs 
as  a  fellow  who,  under  the  plausible  pretence  of  assist- 
ing their  causes,  was  in  reality  undermining  the  liber- 
ties of  Newgate.  He  at  first  threw  out  certain  sly  hints 
and  insinuations  ;  but,  having  by  degrees  formed  a  party 
against  Roger,  he  one  day  assembled  them  together,  and 
spoke  to  them  in  the  following  florid  manner: 

"  Friends  and  fellow  citizens, — The  cause  which  I  am  to 
mention  to  you  this  day  is  of  such  mighty  importance, 
that  when  I  consider  my  own  small  abilities,  I  tremble 
with  an  apprehension  lest  your  safety  may  be  rendered 
precarious  by  the  weakness  of  him  who  hath  undertaken 
to  represent  to  you  your  danger.  Gentlemen,  the  liberty 
of  Newgate  is  at  stake:  your  privileges  have  been  long 
undermined,  and  are  now  openly  violated  by  one  man;  by 
one  who  hath  engrossed  to  himself  the  whole  conduct  of 
your  trials,  under  color  of  which  he  exacts  what  contri- 
butions on  you  he  pleases:  but  are  those  sums  appropri- 


JONATHAN  WILD.  153 

ated  to  the  uses  for  which  they  are  raised  ?  Your  fre- 
quent convictions  at  the  Old  Bailey,  those  depredations 
of  justice,  must  too  sensibly  and  sorely  demonstrate  the 
contrary.  What  evidence  doth  he  ever  produce  for  the 
prisoner  which  the  prisoner  himself  could  not  have  pro- 
vided, and  often  better  instructed?  How  many  noble 
youths  have  there  been  lost  when  a  single  alibi  would 
have  saved  them  !  Should  I  be  silent,  nay,  could  your 
own  injuries  want  a  tongue  to  remonstrate,  the  very 
breath  which  by  his  neglect  hath  been  stopped  at  the 
cheat  would  cry  out  loudly  against  him.  Nor  is  the  ex- 
orbitancy of  his  plunders  visible  only  in  the  dreadful  con- 
sequences it  hath  produced  to  the  prigs,  nor  glares  it  only 
in  the  miseries  brought  on  them ;  it  blazes  forth  in  the 
more  desirable  effects  it  hath  wrought  for  himself,  in  the 
rich  perquisites  required  by  it ;  witness  that  silk  night- 
gown, that  robe  of  shame,  which,  to  his  eternal  dishonor, 
he  publicly  wears;  that  gown  which  I  will  not  scruple  to 
call  the  winding-sheet  of  the  liberties  of  Newgate.  Is 
there  a  prig  who  hath  the  interest  and  honor  of  New- 
gate so  little  at  heart  that  he  can  refrain  from  blushing 
when  he  beholds  that  trophy,  purchased  with  the  breath 
of  so  many  prigs  ?  Nor  is  this  all.  His  waistcoat  em- 
broidered with  silk,  and  his  velvet  cap,  bought  with  the 
same  price,  are  ensigns  of  the  same  disgrace.  Some 
would  think  the  rags  which  covered  his  nakedness  when 
first  he  was  committed  hither  well  exchanged  for  these 
gaudy  trappings:  but  in  my  eye  no  exchange  can  be  prof- 
itable when  dishonor  is  the  condition.  If,  therefore, 
Newgate "  Here  the  only  copy  which  we  could  pro- 
cure of  this  speech  breaks  off  abruptly;  however,  we  can 
assure  the  reader,  from  very  authentic  information,  that 
he  concluded  with  advising  the  prigs  to  put  their  affairs 
into  other  hands  After  which,  one  of  his  party,  as  had 
been  before  concerted,  in  a  very  long  speech  recommended 
him  (Wild  himself)  to  their  choice. 
Newgate  was  divided  into  parties  on  this  occasion  ;  the 


154  JONATHAN  WILD. 

prigs  on  each  side  representing-  their  chief  or  great  man 
to  be  the  only  person  by  whom  the  affairs  of  Newgate 
could  be  managed  with  safety  and  advantage.  The  prigs 
had  indeed  very  incompatible  interests:  for,  whereas  the 
supporters  of  Johnson,  who  was  in  possession  of  the  plun- 
der of  Newgate,  were  admitted  to  some  share  under  their 
leader,  so  the  abettors  of  Wild  had,  on  his  promotion, 
the  same  views  of  dividing  some  part  of  the  spoil  among 
themselves.  It  is  no  wonder,  therefore,  they  were  both 
so  warm  on  each  side.  What  may  seem  more  remark- 
able was,  that  the  debtors,  who  were  entirely  uncon- 
cerned in  the  dispute,  and  who  were  the  destined  plunder 
of  both  parties,  should  interest  themselves  with  the  ut- 
most violence,  some  on  behalf  of  Wild,  and  others  in 
favor  of  Johnson.  So  that  all  Newgate  resounded  with 
Wild  forever,  Johnson  forever.  And  the  poor  debtors 
re-echoed  the  liberties  of  Newgate,  which,  in  the  cant 
language,  signifies  plunder,  as  loudly  as  the  thieves  them- 
selves. In  short,  such  quarrels  and  animosities  happened 
between  them,  that  they  seemed  rather  the  people  of  two 
countries  long  at  war  with  each  other  than  the  inhabit- 
ants of  the  same  castle. 

Wild's  party  at  length  prevailed,  and  he  succeeded  to 
the  place  and  power  of  Johnson,  whom  he  presently 
stripped  of  all  his  finery  ;  but,  when  it  was  proposed  thai 
he  should  sell  it  and  divide  the  money  for  the  good  of  the 
whole,  he  waved  that  motion,  saying  it  was  not  jet  time, 
that  he  should  find  a  better  opportunity,  that  the  clothes 
wanted  cleaning,  with  many  other  pretences,  and  within 
two  days,  to  the  surprise  of  many,  he  appeared  in  them 
himself;  for  which  he  vouchsafed  no  other  apology  than 
that  they  fitted  him  much  better  than  they  did  Johnson, 
and  that  they  became  him  in  a  much  more  elegant  man- 
ner. 

This  behavior  of  Wild  greatly  incensed  the  debtors, 
particularly  those  by  whose  means  he  had  been  pro- 
moted.    They  grumbled  extremely,  and  vented  great  in- 


JONATHAN   WILD.  155 

dignation  against  Wild;  when  one  day  a  very  grave  man, 
and  one  of  much  authority  among  them,  bespake  them 
as  follows: 

"Nothing  sure  can  be  more  justly  ridiculous  than  the 
conduct  of  those  who  should  lay  the  lamb  in  the  wolf's 
way,  and  then  should  lament  his  being  devoured.     What 
a  wolf  is  in  a  sheep-fold,  a  great  man  is  in  society.     Now, 
when  one  wolf  is  in  possession  of  a  sheep-fold,  how  little 
would  it  avail  the  simple  flock  to  expel  him  and  place 
another  in  his  stead  !     Of  the  same  benefit  to  us  is  the 
overthrowing  one  prig  in  favor  of  another.     And   for 
what  other  advantage  was  your  struggle  ?    Did  you  not 
all  know  that  Wild  and  his  followers  were  prigs,  as  well 
as  Johnson  and  his  ?    What  then  could  the  contention  be 
among  such  but  that  which  you  have  now  discovered  it  to 
have  been  ?    Perhaps  some  would  say,  is  it  then  our  duty 
tamely  to  submit  to  the  rapine  of  the  prig  who  now  plun- 
ders us  for    fear  of  an    exchange  ?    Surely  no :  but  I 
answer,  it  is  better  to  shake  the  plunder  off  than  to  ex- 
change the  plunderer.     And  by  what  means  can  we  effect 
this  but  by  a  total  change  of  our  manners  ?    Every  prig 
is  a  slave.     His  own  priggish  desires,  which  enslave  him, 
themselves  betray  him  to  the  tyranny  of  others.     To 
preserve,  therefore,  the  liberty  of  Newgate,  is  to  change 
the  manners  of  Newgate.     Let  us,  therefore,  who  are  con- 
fined here  for  debt  only  separate  ourselves  entirely  from 
the  prigs;  neither  drink  with  them  nor  converse  with 
them.     Let  us  at  the  same  time  separate  ourselves  farther 
from  priggism  itself.     Instead  of  being  ready,  on  every 
opportunity,  to  pillage  each  other,  let  us  be  content  with 
our  honest  share  of  the  common  bounty,  and  with  the 
acquisition  of  our  own  industry.     When  we  separate  from 
the  prigs,  let  us  enter  into  a  closer  alliance  with  one 
another.     Let  us  consider  ourselves  all  as  members  of  one 
community,  to  the  public  good  of  which  we  are  to  sacri- 
fice our  private  views ;  not  to  give  up  the  interest  of  the 
whole  for  every  little  pleasure  or  profit  which  shall  accrue 


156  JONATHAN  WILD. 

to  ourselves.  Liberty  is  consistent  with  no  degree  of 
honesty  inferior  to  this,  and  the  community  where  this 
abounds  no  prig  will  have  the  impudence  or  audacious- 
ness to  endeavor  to  enslave;  or  if  he  should,  his  own  de- 
struction would  be  the  only  consequence  of  his  attempt. 
But  while  one  man  pursues  his  ambition,  another  his 
interest,  another  his  safety ;  while  one  hath  a  roguery  (a 
priggism  they  here  call  it)  to  commit,  and  another  a 
roguery  to  defend  ;  they  must  naturally  fly  to  the  favor 
and  protection  of  those  who  have  power  to  give  them 
what  they  desire,  and  to  defend  them  from  what  they 
fear;  nay,  in  this  view  it  becomes  their  interest  to 
promote  this  power  in  their  patrons.  Now,  gentlemen, 
when  we  are  no  longer  prigs,  we  shall  no  longer  have 
these  fears  or  these  desires.  What  remains  therefore  for 
us  but  to  resolve  bravely  to  lay  aside  our  priggism,  our 
roguery  in  plainer  words,  and  preserve  our  liberty,  or  to 
give  up  the  latter  in  the  preservation  and  preference  of 
the  former?" 

This  speech  was  received  with  much  applause ;  how- 
ever, Wild  continued  as  before  to  levy  contributions 
among  the  prisoners,  to  apply  the  garnish  to  his  own  use, 
and  to  strut  openly  in  the  ornaments  which  he  had  stripped 
from  Johnson.  To  speak  sincerely  there  was  more  bra- 
vado than  real  use  or  advantage  in  these  trappings.  As 
for  the  nightgown,  its  outside  indeed  made  a  glittering 
tinsel  appearance,  but  it  kept  him  not  warm,  nor  could 
the  finery  of  it  do  him  much  honor,  since  every  one  knew 
it  did  not  properly  belong  to  him  ;  as  to  the  waistcoat,  it 
fitted  him  very  ill,  being  infinitely  too  big  for  him  ;  and 
the  cap  was  so  heavy  that  it  made  his  head  ache.  Thus 
these  clothes,  which  perhaps  (as  they  presented  the  idea 
of  their  misery  more  sensibly  to  the  people's  eyes)  brought 
him  more  envy,  hatred,  and  detraction,  than  all  his 
deeper  impositions  and  more  real  advantages,  afforded 
very  little  use  or  honor  to  the  wearer ;  nay,  could  scarce 
serve  to  amuse  his  own  vanity  when  this  was  cool  enough 


JONATHAN   WILD.  157 

to  reflect  with  the  least  seriousness.  And,  should  I  speak 
in  the  language  of  a  man  who  estimated  human  happiness 
without  regard  to  that  greatness  which  we  have  so  labo- 
riously endeavored  to  paint  in  this  history,  it  is  probable 
he  never  took  (*.  e.  robbed  the  prisoners  of)  a  shilling 
which  he  himself  did  not  pay  too  dear  for. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

TJie  dead-warrant  arrives  for  Heartfree ;  on  which  occasion  Wild 
betrays  some  human  weakness. 

The  dead-warrant,  as  it  is  called,  now  came  down  to 
Newgate  for  the  execution  of  Heartfree  among  the  rest  of 
the  prisoners.  And  here  the  reader  must  excuse  us,  who 
profess  to  draw  natural,  not  perfect  characters,  and  to 
record  the  truths  of  history,  not  the  extravagances  of 
romance,  while  we  relate  a  weakness  in  Wild  of  which  we 
are  ourselves  ashamed,  and  which  we  would  willingly 
have  concealed,  could  we  have  preserved  at  the  same  time 
that  strict  attachment  to  truth  and  impartialhyy  which  we 
have  professed  in  recording  the  annals  of  this  great  man. 
Know  then,  reader,  that  this  dead-warrant  did  not  affect 
Heartfree,  who  was  to  suffer  a  shameful  death  by  it,  with 
half  the  concern  it  gave  Wild,  who  had  been  the  occasion 
of  it.  He  had  been  a  little  struck  the  day  before  on  seeing 
the  children  carried  away  in  tears  from  their  father. 
This  sight  brought  the  remembrance  of  some  slight 
injuries  he  had  done  the  father  to  his  mind,  which  he 
endeavored  as  much  as  possible  to  obliterate ;  but,  when 
one  of  the  keepers  (I  should  say  lieutenants  of  the  castle) 
repeated  Heartfree's  name  among  those  of  the  malefac- 
tors who  were  to  suffer  within  a  few  days,  the  blood 
forsook  his  countenance,  and  in  a  cold  still  stream  moved 
heavily  to  his  heart,  which  had  scarce  strength  enough 
left  to  return  it  through  his  veins.     In  short,  his  body  so 


158  JONATHAN  WILD. 

visibly  demonstrated  the  pangs  of  his  mind,  that  to  escape 
observation  he  retired  to  his  room,  where  he  sullenly 
gave  vent  to  such  bitter  agonies,  that  even  the  injured 
Heartfree,  had  not  the  apprehension  of  what  bis  wife  had 
suffered  shut  every  avenue  of  compassion,  would  have 
pitied  him. 

When  his  mind  was  thoroughly  fatigued  and  worn  out 
with  the  horrors  which  the  approaching  fate  of  the  poor 
wretch  who  lay  under  a  sentence  which  he  had  iniquit- 
ously  brought  upon  him  had  suggested,  sleep  promised 
him  relief ;  but  this  promise  was,  alas  !  delusive.  This 
certain  friend  to  the  tired  body  is  often  the  severest  enemy 
to  the  oppressed  mind.  So  at  least  it  proved  to  Wild, 
adding  visionary  to  real  horrors,  and  tormenting  his 
imagination  with  phantoms  too  dreadful  to  be  described. 
At  length,  starting  from  these  visions,  he  no  sooner  re- 
covered his  waking  senses,  than  he  cried  out— "  I  may 
yet  prevent  this  catastrophe.  It  is  not  too  late  to  dis- 
cover the  whole. "  He  then  paused  a  moment ;  but  great- 
ness, instantly  returning  to  his  assistance,  checked  the 
base  thought,  as  it  first  offered  itself  to  his  mind.  He 
then  reasoned  thus  coolly  with  himself :— "  Shall  I,  like  a 
child,  or  a  woman,  or  one  of  those  mean  wretches  whom 
1  have  always  despised,  be  frightened  by  dreams  and  vis- 
ionary phantoms  to  sully  that  honor  which  I  have  so  dif- 
ficultly acquired  and  so  gloriously  maintained  ?  Shall  I, 
to  redeem  the  worthless  life  of  this  silly  fellow,  suffer  my 
reputation  to  contract  a  stain  which  the  blood  of  millions 
cannot  wipe  away  ?  Was  it  only  that  the  few,  the  simple 
part  of  mankind,  should  call  me  rogue,  perhaps  I  could 
submit ;  but  to  be  for  ever  contemptible  to  the  prigs,  as 
a  wretch  who  wanted  spirit  to  execute  my  undertaking, 
can  never  be  digested.  What  is  the  life  of  a  single  man  ? 
Have  not  whole  armies  and  nations  been  sacrificed  to  the 
honor  of  one  great  man  ?  Nay,  to  omit  that  first-class 
of  greatness,  the  conquerors  of  mankind,  how  often  have 
numbers  fallen  by  a  fictitious  plot  only  to  satisfy  the 


JONATHAN  WILD.  159 

spleen,  or  perhaps  exercise  the  ingenuity,  of  a  member  of 
that  second  order  of  greatness,  the  ministerial !  What 
have  1  done  then  ?  Why,  I  have  ruined  a  family,  and 
brought  an  innocent  man  to  the  gallows.  I  ought  rather 
to  weep  with  Alexander  that  I  have  ruined  no  more  than 
to  regret  the  little  I  have  done."  He  at  length,  there- 
fore, bravely  resolved  to  consign  over  Heartfree  to  his 
fate,  though  it  cost  him  more  struggling  than  may  easily 
be  believed,  utterly  to  conquer  his  reluctance,  and  to  ban- 
ish away  every  degree  of  humanity  from  his  mind,  these 
little  sparks  of  which  composed  one  of  those  weaknesses 
which  we  lamented  in  the  opening  of  our  history. 

But,  in  vindication  of  our  hero,  we  must  beg  leave  to 
observe  that  Nature  is  seldom  so  kind  as  those  writers 
who  draw  characters  absolutely  perfect.  She  seldom 
creates  any  man  so  completely  great,  or  completely  low, 
but  that  some  sparks  of  humanity  will  glimmer  in  the 
former,  and  some  sparks  of  what  the  vulgar  call  evil  will 
dart  forth  in  the  latter  ;  utterly  to  extinguish  which  will 
give  some  pain,  and  uneasiness  to  both  ;  for  I  apprehend 
no  mind  was  ever  yet  formed  entirely  free  from  blemish, 
unless  perad venture  that  of  a  sanctified  hypocrite,  whose 
praises  some  well-fed  flatterer  hath  gratefully  thought 
proper  to  sing  forth. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Containing  various  matters. 

The  day  was  now  come  when  poor  Heartfree  was  to 
suffer  an  ignominious  death.  Friendly  had  in  the  strong- 
est manner  confirmed  his  assurance  of  fulfilling  his  prom- 
ise of  becoming  a  father  to  one  of  his  children  and  a  hus- 
band to  the  other.  This  gave  him  inexpressible  comfort, 
and  he  had,  the  evening  before,  taken  his  last  leave  of 
the  little  wretches  with  a  tenderness  which  drew  a  tear 


100  JONATHAN  WILD. 

from  one  of  the  keepers,  joined  to  a  magnanimity  which 
would  have  pleased  a  stoic.  When  he  was  informed  that 
the  coach  which  Friendly  had  provided  for  him  was 
ready,  and  that  the  rest  of  the  prisoners  were  gone,  he 
embraced  that  faithful  friend  with  great  passion,  and 
begged  that  he  would  leave  him  here;  but  the  other  de- 
sired leave  to  accompany  him  to  his  end,  which  at  last  he 
was  forced  to  comply  with.  And  now  he  was  proceeding 
towards  the  coach  when  he  found  his  difficulties  were  not 
yet  over;  for  now  a  friend  arrived  of  whom  he  was  to 
take  a  harder  and  more  tender  leave  than  he  had  yet  gone 
through.  This  friend,  reader,  was  no  other  than  Mrs. 
Heartfree  herself,  who  ran  to  him  with  a  look  all  wild, 
staring,  and  frantic,  and  having  reached  his  arms,  fainted 
away  in  them  without  uttering  a  single  syllable.  Heart- 
free  was,  with  great  difficulty,  able  to  preserve  his  own 
senses  in  such  a  surprise  at  such  a  season.  And  indeed 
our  good-natured  reader  will  be  rather  inclined  to  wish 
this  miserable  couple  had,  by  dying  in  each  other's  arms, 
put  a  final  period  to  their  woes,  than  have  survived  to 
taste  those  bitter  moments  which  were  to  be  their  por 
tion,  and  which  the  unhappy  wife,  soon  recovering  from 
the  short  intermission  of  being,  now  began  to  suffer. 
When  she  became  first  mistress  of  her  voice  she  burst 
forth  into  the  following  accents  : — "  O  my  husband  !  Is 
this  the  condition  in  which  I  find  you  after  our  cruel  sepa- 
ration ?  Who  hath  done  this  ?  Cruel  Heaven  !  What 
is  the  occasion  ?  I  know  thou  canst  deserve  no  ill.  Tell 
me,  somebody  who  can  speak,  while  I  have  my  senses  left 
to  understand,  what  is  the  matter?"  At  which  words 
several  laughed,  and  one  answered,  "  The  matter  !  Why 
no  great  matter.  The  gentleman  is  not  the  first,  nor 
won't  be  the  last :  the  worst  of  the  matter  is,  that  if  we 
are  to  stay  all  the  morning  here  I  shall  lose  my  dinner." 
Heartfree,  pausing  a  moment  and  recollecting  himself, 
cried  out,  "I  will  bear  all  with  patience."  And  then,  ad- 
dressing himself  to  the  commanding  officer,  begged  he 


"  HE    COULD    NOT    FORBEAR    RENEWING    HIS    EMBRACE. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  1C1 

might  only  have  a  few  minutes  by  himself  with  his  wife, 
whom  he  had  not  seen  before  since  his  misfortunes.  The 
great  man  answered,  "  He  had  compassion  on  him,  and 
would  do  more  than  he  could  answer;  but  he  supposed 
he  was  too  much  a  gentleman  not  to  know  that  something- 
was  due  for  such  civility."  On  this  hint,  Friendly,  who 
was  himself  half  dead,  pulled  five  guineas  out  of  his 
pocket,  which  the  great  man  took,  and  said  he  would  be 
so  generous  to  give  him  ten  minutes ;  on  which  one  ob- 
served that  many  a  gentleman  had  bought  ten  minutes 
with  a  woman  dearer,  and  many  other  facetious  remarks 
were  made  unnecessary  to  be  here  related.  Heartfree 
was  now  suffered  to  retire  into  a  room  with  his  wife,  the 
commander  informing  him  at  his  entrance  that  he  must 
be  expeditious,  for  that  the  rest  of  the  good  company 
would  be  at  the  tree  before  him,  and  he  supposed  he  was 
a  gentleman  of  too  much  breeding  to  make  them  wait. 

This  tender  wretched  couple  were  now  retired  for  these 
few  minutes,  which  the  commander  without  carefully 
measured  with  his  watch  ;  and  Heartfree  wTas  mustering 
all  his  resolution  to  part  with  what  his  soul  so  ardentry 
doted  on,  and  to  conjure  her  to  support  his  loss  for 
the  sake  of  her  poor  infants,  and  to  comfort  her  with  the 
promise  of  Friendly  on  their  account ;  but  all  his  design 
was  frustrated.  Mrs.  Heartfree  could  not  support  the 
shock,  but  again  fainted  away,  and  so  entirely  lost  every 
symptom  of  life  that  Heartfree  called  vehemently  for 
assistance.  Friendly  rushed  first  into  the  room,  and  was 
soon  followed  by  many  others,  and,  what  was  remark- 
able, one  who  had  unmoved  beheld  the  tender  scene 
between  these  parting  lovers  was  touched  to  the  quick  by 
the  pale  looks  of  the  woman,  and  ran  up  and  down  for 
water,  drops,  &c,  with  the  utmost  hurry  and  confusion. 
The  ten  minutes  were  expired,  which  the  commander  now 
hinted  ;  and  seeing  nothing  offered  for  the  renewal  of  the 
term  (for  indeed  Friendly  had  unhappily  emptied  his 
pockets),  he  began  to  grow   very  importunate,  and  at 


162  JONATHAN  WILD. 

last  told  Heartfree  he  should  be  ashamed  not  to  act 
more  like  a  man.  Heartfree  begged  his  pardon,  and  said 
he  would  make  him  wait  no  longer.  Then,  with  the 
deepest  sigh,  cried,  "  Oh,  my  angel !"  and,  embracing  his 
wife  with  the  utmost  eagerness,  kissed  her  pale  lips  with 
more  fervency  than  ever  bridegroom  did  the  blushing 
cheeks  of  his  bride.  He  then  cried,  "  The  Almighty 
bless  thee  !  and,  if  it  be  His  pleasure,  restore  thee  to  life ; 
if  not,  I  beseech  Him  we  may  presently  meet  again  in  a 
better  world  than  this."  He  was  breaking  from  her, 
when,  perceiving  her  senses  returning,  he  could  not  for- 
bear renewing  his  embrace,  and,  again  pressing  her  lips, 
which  now  recovered  life  and  warmth  so  fast  that  he 
begged  one  ten  minutes  more  to  tell  her  what  her  swoon- 
ing had  prevented  her  hearing.  The  worthy  commander, 
being  perhaps  a  little  touched  at  this  tender  scene,  took 
Friendly  aside,  and  asked  him  what  he  would  give  if  he 
would  suffer  his  friend  to  remain  half  an  hour  ?  Friendly 
answered,  anything  ;  that  he  had  no  money  in  his  pocket, 
but  he  would  certainly  pay  him  that  afternoon.  "  Well, 
then,  I'll  be  moderate,"  said  he;  "twenty  guineas." 
Friendly  answered,  "  It  is  a  bargain."  The  commander, 
having  exacted  a  firm  promise,  "  Then  I  don't  care  if 
they  stay  a  whole  hour  together ;  for  what  signifies  hid- 
ing good  news?  the  gentleman  is  reprieved;"  of  which 
he  had  just  before  received  notice  in  a  whisper.  It  would 
be  very  impertinent  to  offer  at  a  description  of  the  joy 
this  occasioned  to  the  two  friends,  or  to  Mrs.  Heartfree, 
who  was  now  again  recovered.  A  surgeon,  who  was 
happily  present,  was  employed  to  bleed  them  all.  After 
which  the  commander,  who  had  the  promise  of  the  money 
again  confirmed  to  him,  wished  Heartfree  joy,  and  shak- 
ing him  very  friendly  by  the  hands,  cleared  the  room 
of  all  the  company,  and  left  the  three  friends  together. 


JONATHAN   WILD.  163 

CHAPTER  VI. 

In  which  the  foregoing  happy  incident  is  accounted  for. 

But  here,  though  I  am  convinced  my  good-natured 
reader  maj'  almost  want  the  surgeon's  assistance  also, 
and  that  there  is  no  passage  in  this  whole  story  which 
can  afford  him  equal  delight,  yet,  lest  our  reprieve  should 
seem  to  resemble  that  in  the  Beggars'  Opera,  I  shall 
endeavor  to  show  him  that  this  incident,  which  is 
undoubtedly  true,  is  at  least  as  natural  as  delightful ;  for 
we  assure  him  we  would  rather  have  suffered  half  man- 
kind to  be  hanged  than  have  saved  one  contrary  to  the 
strictest  rules  of  writing  and  probability. 

Be  it  known,  then  (a  circumstance  which  I  think  highly 
credible)  that  the  great  Fireblood  had  been,  a  few  days 
before,  taken  in  the  fact  of  a  robbe^,  and  carried  before 
the  same  justice  of  the  peace  who  had,  on  his  evidence, 
committed  Heartfree  to  prison.  This  magistrate,  who  did 
indeed  no  small  honor  to  the  commission  he  bore,  duly 
considered  the  weighty  charge  committed  to  him,  by 
which  he  was  intrusted  with  decisions  affecting  the  lives, 
liberties,  and  properties  of  his  countrymen.  He  therefore 
examined  always  with  the  utmost  diligence  and  caution 
into  every  minute  circumstance.  And,  as  he  had  a  good 
deal  balanced,  even  when  he  committed  Heartfree,  on  the 
excellent  character  given  him  by  Friendly  and  the  maid  ; 
and  as  he  was  much  staggered  on  finding  that,  of  the  two 
persons  on  whose  evidence  alone  Heartfree  had  been  com- 
mitted, and  had  been  since  convicted,  one  was  in  Newgate 
for  a  felony,  and  the  other  was  now  brought  before  him 
for  a  robber}',  he  thought  proper  to  put  the  matter  very 
home  to  Fireblood  at  this  time.  The  young  Achates  was 
taken,  as  we  have  said,  in  the  fact ;  so  that  denial  he  saw 
was  in  vain.  He  therefore  honestly  confessed  what  he 
knew  must  be  proved  ;  and  desired  on  the  merit  of 
the    discoveries    he  had    made,    to    be    admitted    as 


164  JONATHAN  WILD. 

evidence  against  his  accomplices.  This  afforded  the 
happiest  opportunity  to  the  justice  to  satisfy  his  con- 
science in  relation  to  Heartf  ree.  He  told  Fireblood  that, 
if  he  expected  the  favor  he  solicited,  it  must  be  on  con- 
dition that  he  revealed  the  whole  truth  to  him  concern- 
ing the  evidence  which  he  had  lately  given  against  a 
bankrupt,  and  which  some  circumstances  had  induced  a 
suspicion  of  ;  that  he  might  depend  on  it  the  truth  would 
be  discovered  by  other  means,  and  gave  some  oblique 
hints  (a  deceit  entirely  justifiable)  that  Wild  himself  had 
offered  such  a  discovery.  The  very  mention  of  Wild's 
name  immediately  alarmed  Fireblood,  who  did  not  in 
the  least  doubt  the  readiness  of  that  gkeat  man  to  hang 
any  of  the  gang  when  his  own  interest  seemed  to  require 
it.  He  therefore  hesitated  not  a  moment,  but,  having 
obtained  a  promise  from  the  justice  that  he  should  be 
accepted  as  an  evidence,  he  discovered  the  whole  false- 
hood, and  declared  he  had  been  seduced  by  Wild  to 
depose  as  he  had  done. 

The  justice,  having  thus  luckily  and  timely  discovered 
this  scene  of  villainy,  alias  greatness,  lost  not  a  moment 
in  using  his  utmost  endeavors  to  get  the  case  of  the 
unhappy  convict  represented  to  the  sovereign,  who  im- 
mediately granted  him  that  gracious  reprieve  which 
caused  such  happiness  to  the  persons  concerned ;  and 
which  we  hope  we  have  now  accounted  for  to  the  satis- 
faction of  the  reader. 

The  good  magistrate,  having  obtained  this  reprieve 
for  Heartf  ree,  thought  it  incumbent  on  him  to  visit  him 
in  the  prison,  and  to  sound,  if  possible,  the  depth  of  this 
affair,  that,  if  he  should  appear  as  innocent  as  he  now 
began  to  conceive  him,  he  might  use  all  imaginable 
methods  to  obtain  his  pardon  and  enlargement. 

The  next  day  therefore  after  that,  when  the  miserable 
scene  above  described  had  passed,  he  went  to  Newgate, 
where  he  found  those  three  persons,  Heartfree,  his  wife, 
and  Friendly,  sitting  together.     The  justice  informed 


JONATHAN  WILD.  165 

the  prisoner  of  the  confession  of  Fireblood,  with  the  steps 
which  he  had  taken  upon  it.  The  reader  will  easily  con- 
ceive the  many  outward  thanks,  as  well  as  inward  grat- 
itude, which  he  received  from  all  three  ;  but  those  were  of 
very  little  consequence  to  him  compared  with  the  secret 
satisfaction  he  felt  in  his  mind  from  reflecting  on  the 
preservation  of  innocence,  as  he  soon  after  very  clearly 
perceived  was  the  case. 

When  he  entered  the  room  Mrs.  Heartfree  was  speak- 
ing with  some  earnestness  :  as  he  perceived,  therefore,  he 
had  interrupted  her,  he  begged  she  would  continue  her 
discourse,  which,  if  he  prevented  by  his  presence,  he 
desired  to  depart ;  but  Heartfree  would  not  suffer  it.  He 
said  she  had  been  relating  some  adventures  which  per- 
haps might  entertain  him  to  hear,  and  which  she 
rather  desired  he  would  hear,  as  they  might  serve  to  illus- 
trate the  foundation  on  which  this  falsehood  had  been 
built,  which  had  brought  on  her  husband  all  his  misfor- 
tunes. 

The  justice  very  gladly  consented,  and  Mrs.  Heartfree, 
at  her  husband's  desire,  began  the  relation  from  the  first 
renewal  of  Wild's  acquaintance  with  him ;  but,  though 
this  recapitulation  was  necessary  for  the  information  of 
our  good  magistrate,  as  it  would  be  useless,  and  perhaps 
tedious,  to  the  reader,  we  shall  only  repeat  that  part  of 
her  story  to  which  only  he  is  a  stranger,  beginning  with 
what  happened  to  her  after  Wild  had  been  turned  adrift 
in  the  boat  by  the  captain  of  the  French  privateer. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Mrs.  Heartfree  relates  her  adventures. 

Mrs.  Heartfree  proceeded  thus  :  "  The  vengeance 
which  the  French  captain  exacted  on  that  villain  (our 
hero)  persuaded  me  that  I  was  fallen  into  the  hands  of  a 


166  JONATHAN  WILD. 

man  of  honor  and  justice  ;  nor  indeed  was  it  possible  for 
any  person  to  be  treated  with  more  respect  and  civility 
than  I  now  was ;  but  this  could  not  mitigate  my  sorrows 
when  I  reflected  on  the  condition  in  which  I  had  been 
betrayed  to  leave  all  that  was  dear  to  me,  much  less 
could  it  produce  such  an  effect  when  I  discovered,  as  I 
soon  did,  that  I  owed  it  chiefly  to  a  passion  which  threat- 
ened me  with  great  uneasiness,  as  it  quickly  appeared  to 
be  very  violent,  and  as  I  was  absolutely  in  the  power  of 
the  person  who  possessed  it,  or  was  rather  possessed  by 
it.  I  must,  however,  do  him  the  justice  to  say  my  fears 
carried  my  suspicions  farther  than  I  afterwards  found  I 
had  any  reason  to  carry  them  :  he  did  indeed  very  soon 
acquaint  me  with  his  passion,  and  used  all  those  gentle 
methods  which  frequently  succeed  with  our  sex  to  prevail 
with  me  to  gratify  it ;  but  never  once  threatened,  nor  had 
the  least  recourse  to  force.  He  did  not  even  once  insin- 
uate to  me  that  I  was  totally  in  his  power,  which  I  my- 
self sufficiently  saw,  and  whence  I  drew  the  most  dreadful 
apprehensions,  well  knowing  that,  as  there  are  some  dis- 
positions so  brutal  that  cruelty  adds  a  zest  and  savor  to 
their  pleasures,  so  there  are  others  whose  gentler  inclina- 
tions are  better  gratified  when  they  win  us  by  softer 
methods  to  comply  with  their  desires;  yet  that  even  these 
may  be  often  compelled  by  an  unruly  passion  to  have 
recourse  at  last-  to  the  means  of  violence,  when  they  de- 
spair of  success  from  persuasion  ;  but  I  was  happily  the 
captive  of  a  better  man.  My  conqueror  was  one  of  those 
over  whom  vice  hath  a  limited  jurisdiction  ;  and,  though 
he  was  too  easily  prevailed  on  to  sin,  he  was  proof  against 
any  temptation  to  villainy. 

"  We  had  been  two  days  almost  totally  becalmed, 
when,  a  brisk  gale  rising  as  we  were  in  sight  of  Dunkirk, 
we  saw  a  vessel  making  full  sail  towards  us.  The  cap- 
tain of  the  privateer  was  so  strong  that  he  apprehended 
no  danger  but  from  a  man-of-war,  which  the  sailors  dis- 
cerned this  not  to  be.     He  therefore  struck  his  colors,  and 


JONATHAN   WILD.  161 

furled  his  sails  as  much  as  possible,  in  order  to  lie  by  and 
expect  her,  hoping-  she  might  be  a  prize."     (Here  Heart- 
free  smiling,  his  wife  stopped  and  inquired  the  cause.    He 
told  her  it  was  from  her  using  the  sea-terms  so  aptly  :  she 
laughed,  and  answered  he  would  wonder  less  at  this  when 
he  heard  the  long  time  she  had  been  on  board  :  and  then 
proceeded.)     "  This  vessel  now  came  alongside  of  us,  and 
hailed  us,  having  perceived  that  on  which  we  were  aboard 
to  be  of  her  own  country;  they  begged  us  not  to  put  into 
Dunkirk,  but  to  accompany  them  in  their  pursuit  of  a 
large    English  merchantman,     whom  we  should  easily 
overtake,  and  both  together   as  easily    conquer.      Our 
captain  immediately  consented  to  this  proposition,  and 
ordered  all  his  sail  to  be  crowded.     This  was  most  unwel- 
come news  to  me  ;  however,  he  comforted  me  all  he  could 
by  assuring  me  I  had  nothing  to  fear,  that  he  would  be 
so  far  from  offering  the  least  rudeness  to  me  himself,  that 
he  would,  at  the  hazard  of  his  life,  protect  me  from  it. 
This  assurance  gave  me  all  the  consolation  which  my  pres- 
ent circumstances  and  the  dreadful  apprehensions  I  had  on 
your  dear  account  would   admit.     (At  which  words  the 
tenderest  glances  passed  on  both  sides  between  the  hus- 
band and  wife). 

"  We  sailed  near  twelve  hours,  when  we  came  in  sight 
of  the  ship  we  were  in  pursuit  of,  and  which  we  should 
probably  have  soon  come  up  with,  had  not  a  very  thick 
mist  ravished  her  from  our  eves.  This  mist  continued 
several  hours,  and  when  it  cleared  up  we  discovered  our 
companion  at  a  great  distance  from  us  ;  but  what  gave 
us  (I  mean  the  captain  and  his  crew)  the  greatest  uneasi- 
ness was  the  sight  of  a  very  large  ship  within  a  mile  of 
us,  which  presently  saluted  us  with  a  gun,  and  now 
appeared  to  be  a  third-rate  English  man-of-war.  Our 
captain  declared  the  impossibility  of  either  fighting  or 
escaping,  and  accordingly  struck  without  waiting  for  the 
broadside  which  was  preparing  for  us,  and  which  perhaps 
would    have    prevented  me  from  the  happiness  I  now 


168  JONATHAN  WILD. 

enjoy."  This  occasioned  Heartfree  to  change  color;  his 
wife  therefore  passed  hastily  to  circumstances  of  a  more 
smiling-  complexion. 

"  I  greatly  rejoiced  at  this  event,  as  I  thought  it  would 
not  only  restore  me  to  the  safe  possession  of  1113^  jewels, 
but  to  what  I  value  beyond  all  the  treasures  of  the  uni- 
verse. My  expectation,  however,  of  both  these  was  some- 
what crossed  for  the  present ;  as  to  the  former,  I  was 
told  they  should  be  carefully  preserved  ;  but  that  1  must 
prove  my  right  to  them  before  I  could  expect  their  restora- 
tion, which,  if  I  mistake  not,  the  captain  did  not  very 
eagerly  desire  I  should  be  able  to  accomplish  ;  and  as  to 
the  latter,  I  was  acquainted  that  I  should  be  put  on  board 
the  first  ship  which  they  met  on  her  way  to  England,  but 
that  they  were  proceeding  to  the  "West  Indies. 

"  I  had  not  been  long  on  board  the  man-of-war  before 
I  discovered  just  reason  rather  to  lament  than  to  rejoice 
at  the  exchange  of  my  captivity ;  for  such  I  concluded 
my  present  situation  to  be.  1  had  now  another  lover  in 
the  captain  of  this  Englishman,  and  much  rougher  and 
less  gallant  than  the  Frenchman  had  been.  He  used  me 
with  scarce  common  civility,  as  indeed  he  showed  very 
little  to  any  other  person,  treating  his  officers  little  better 
than  a  man  of  no  great  good  breeding  would  exert  to  his 
meanest  servant,  and  that  too  on  some  very  irritating 
provocation.  As  for  me,  he  addressed  me  with  the  insol- 
ence of  a  basha  to  a  Circassian  slave  ;  he  talked  to  me 
with  the  loose  license  in  which  the  most  profligate  liber- 
tines converse  with  harlots,  and  which  women  abandoned 
only  in  a  moderate  degree  detest  and  abhor.  He  often 
kissed  me  with  very  rude  familiarity,  and  one  day 
attempted  farther  brutality ;  when  a  gentleman  on 
board,  and  who  was  in  my  situation,  that  is,  had  been 
taken  by  a  privateer  and  was  retaken,  rescued  me  from 
his  hands,  for  which  the  captain  confined  him,  though  he 
was  not  under  his  command,  two  days  in  irons  ;  when  he 
was  released  (for  I  was  not  suffered  to  visit  him  in  his 


JONATHAN  WILD.  169 

confinement)  I  went  to  him  and  thanked  him  with  the 
utmost  acknowledgment  for  what  he  had  done  and  suffered 
on  my  account.  The  gentleman  behaved  to  me  in  the 
handsomest  manner  on  this  occasion ;  told  me  he  was 
ashamed  of  the  high  sense  I  seemed  to  entertain  of  so 
small  an  obligation  of  an  action  to  which  his  duty  as  a 
Christian  and  his  honor  as  a  man  obliged  him.  From 
this  time  I  lived  in  great  familiarity  with  this  man,  whom 
I  regarded  as  my  protector,  which  he  professed  himself 
ready  to  be  on  all  occasions,  expressing  the  ut- 
most abhorrence  of  the  captain's  brutality,  especially 
that  shown  towards  me,  and  the  tenderness  of  a  parent 
for  the  preservation  of  my  virtue,  for  which  I  was  not 
myself  more  solicitous  than  he  appeared.  He  was,  in- 
deed, the  only  man  1  had  hitherto  met  since  my  unhappy 
departure  who  did  not  endeavor  by  all  his  looks,  words, 
and  actions,  to  assure  me  he  had  a  liking  to  my  unfortu- 
nate person ;  the  rest  seeming  desirous  of  sacrificing  the 
little  beauty  they  complimented  to  their  desires,  without 
the  least  consideration  of  the  ruin  which  I  earnestly  repre- 
sented to  them  they  were  attempting  to  bring  on  me  and 
on  my  future  repose. 

"  I  now  passed  several  days  pretty  free  from  the  cap- 
tain's molestation,  till  one  fatal  night."  Here,  perceiving 
Heartfree  grew  pale,  she  comforted  him  by  an  assurance 
that  Heaven  had  preserved  her  chastity,  and  again  had 
restored  her  unsullied  to  his  arms.  She  continued  thus  : 
" Perhaps  I  gave  it  a  wrong  epithet  in  the  word  fatal; 
but  a  wretched  night  I  am  sure  I  may  call  it,  for  no 
woman  who  came  off  victorious  was,  I  believe,  ever  in 
greater  danger.  One  night  I  say,  having  drank  his  spirits 
high  with  punch,  in  company  with  the  purser,  who  was 
the  only  man  in  the  ship  he  admitted  to  his  table,  the  cap- 
tain sent  for  me  into  his  cabin  ;  whither,  though  unwill- 
ingly, I  was  obliged  to  go.  We  were  no  sooner  alone 
together  than  he  seized  me  by  the  hand,  and,  after 
affronting  my  ears  with  discourse  which  I  am  unable  to 


170  JONATHAN  WILD. 

repeat,  he  swore  a  great  oath  that  his  passion  was  to  be 
dallied  with  no  longer  ;  that  I  must  not  expect  to  treat 
him  in  the  manner  to  which  a  set  of  blockhead  landmen 
submitted.     '  None  of  your  coquette  airs,  therefore,  with 
me,  madame,'  said  he,  'for  I  am  resolved  to  have  you 
this  night.     No  struggling  nor  squalling,  for  both  will  be 
impertinent.     The  first  man  who  offers  to  come  in  here,  I 
will  have  his  skin  flay'd  off  at  the  gangway.'     He  then 
attempted  to  pull  me  violently  towards  his  bed.     I  threw 
myself  on  my  knees,  and  with  tears  and  entreaties  be- 
sought his  compassion  ;  but  this  was,  I  found,  to  no  pur- 
pose.    I  then  had  recourse  to  threats,  and  endeavored  to 
frighten  him  with  the  consequence  ;  but  neither  had  this, 
though  it  seemed  to  stagger  him  more  than   the  other 
method,  sufficient  force  to  deliver  me.  At  last  a  stratagem 
came  into  my  head,  of  which  my  perceiving  him  reel  gave 
me  the  first  hint ;  I  entreated  a  moment's  reprieve  only, 
when,  collecting  all  the  spirits  I  could  muster,  I  put  on  a 
constrained  air  of  gaiety,  and  told  him  with  an  affected 
laugh,  he  was  the  roughest  lover  I  had  ever  met  with, 
and  that  I  believed  I  was  the  first  woman  he  had  ever 
paid  his  addresses  to.     'Addresses,'  said  he ;  '  d— n  your 
addresses  !    I  want  to  undress  you.'     I  then  begged  him 
to  let  us  drink  some  punch  together ;  for  that  I  loved  a 
can    as    well    as    himself,    and  never  would  grant  the 
favor  to  any  man  till  I  had  drank  a  hearty  glass  with 
him.     *  Oh  ! '  said  he,  '  if  that  be  all,  you  shall  have  punch 
enough  to  drown  yourself  in.'     At  which  words  he  rang 
the  bell,  and  ordered  in  a  gallon  of  that  liquor.     I  was  in 
the  meantime  obliged  to  suffer  his  nauseous  kisses,  and 
some  rudenesses  which  I  had  great  difficulty  to  restrain 
within  moderate  bounds.     When  the  punch  came  in  he 
took  up  the  bowl  and  drank  my  health  ostentatiously,  in 
such  a  quantity  that  considerably  advanced  my  scheme. 
I  folio  wed  him  with  bumpers  as  fast  as  possible,  and  was 
myself  obliged  to  drink  so  much  that  at  another  time  it 
would  have  staggered  my  own  reason,  but  at  present  it 


JONATHAN  WILD.  171 

did  not  affect  me.  At  length,  perceiving-  him  very  far 
gone,  I  watched  an  opportunity,  and  ran  out  of  the  cabin, 
resolving  to  seek  protection  of  the  sea  if  I  could  find  no 
other  ;  hut  Heaven  was  now  graciously  pleased  to  relieve 
me ;  for  in  his  attempt  to  pursue  me  he  reeled  backwards, 
and,  falling  down  the  cabin  stairs,  he  dislocated  his 
shoulder  and  so  bruised  himself  that  I  was  not  only  pre- 
served that  night  from  any  danger  of  my  intended  rav- 
isher,  but  the  accident  threw  him  into  a  fever  which 
endangered  his  life,  and  whether  he  ever  recovered  or  no 
I  am  not  certain  ;  for  during  his  delirious  fits  the  eldest 
lieutenant  commanded  the  ship.  This  was  a  virtuous  and 
brave  fellow,  who  had  been  twenty-five  years  in  that  post 
without  being  able  to  obtain  a  ship,  and  had  seen  several 
boys,  the  bastards  of  noblemen,  put  over  his  head.  One 
day  while  the  ship  remained  under  his  command  an  Eng- 
lish vessel  bound  to  Cork  passed  by ;  myself  and  my 
friend,  who  had  formerly  lain  two  days  in  irons  on  my 
account,  went  on  board  this  ship  with  the  leave  of  the 
good  lieutenant,  who  made  us  such  presents  as  he  was 
able  of  provisions,  and,  congratulating  me  on  my  delivery 
from  a  danger  to  which  none  of  the  ship's  crew  had  been 
strangers,  he  kindly  wished  us  both  a  safe  voyage. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

in  which  Mrs.  Heartfree  continues  the  relation  of  her  adventures. 

"The  first  evening  after  we  were  aboard  this  vessel, 
which  was  a  brigantine,  we  being  then  at  no  very  great 
distance  from  the  Madeiras,  the  most  violent  storm  arose 
from  the  northwest,  in  which  we  presently  lost  both  our 
masts,  and  indeed  death  now  presented  itself  as  inevitable 
to  us :  I  need  not  tell  my  Tommy  what  were  then  my 
thoughts.  Our  danger  was  so  great  that  the  captain  of 
the  ship,  a  professed  atheist,  betook  himself  to  prayers,  and 


172  JONATHAN  WILD. 

the  whole  crew,  abandoning-  themselves  for  lost,  fell  with 
the  utmost  eagerness  to  the  emptjing  a  cask  of  brandy, 
not  one  drop  of  which  they  swore  should  be  polluted  with 
salt  water.  I  observed  here  my  old  friend  displayed  less 
courage  than  I  expected  from  him.  He  seemed  entirely 
swallowed  up  in  despair.  But  Heaven  be  praised  !  we 
were  at  last  all  preserved.  The  storm,  after  above  eleven 
hours'  continuance,  began  to  abate,  and  by  degrees  en- 
tirely ceased,  but  left  us  still  rolling  at  the  mercy  of  the 
waves,  which  carried  us  at  their  own  pleasure  to  the 
southeast  a  vast  number  of  leagues.  Our  crew  were  all 
dead  drunk  with  the  brandy  which  they  had  taken  such 
care  to  preserve  from  the  sea ;  but,  indeed,  had  they  been 
awake,  their  labor  would  have  been  of  very  little  service, 
as  we  had  lost  all  our  rigging,  our  brigantine  being  reduced 
to  a  naked  hulk  only.  In  this  condition  we  floated  about 
thirty  hours,  till  in  the  midst  of  a  very  dark  night  we 
spied  a  light,  which,  seeming  to  approach  us,  grew  so 
large  that  our  sailors  concluded  it  to  be  the  lantern  of  a 
man-of-war,  but  when  we  were  cheering  ourselves  with 
the  hopes  of  our  deliverance  from  this  wretched  situation, 
on  a  sudden,  to  our  great  concern,  the  light  entirely  dis- 
appeared, and  left  us  in  a  despair  increased  by  the  remem- 
brance of  those  pleasing  imaginations  with  which  we  had 
entertained  our  minds  during  its  appearance.  The  rest 
of  the  night  we  passed  in  melancholy  conjectures  on  the 
light  which  had  deserted  us,  which  the  major  part  of  the 
sailors  concluded  to  be  a  meteor.  In  this  distress  we  had 
one  comfort,  which  was  a  plentiful  store  of  provision  ;  this 
so  supported  the  spirits  of  the  sailors,  that  they  declared 
had  they  but  a  sufficient  quantity  of  brandy  they  cared  not 
whether  they  saw  land  for  a  month  to  come ;  but  indeed 
we  were  much  nearer  it  than  we  imagined,  as  we  perceived 
at  break  of  day.  One  of  the  most  knowing  of  the  crew 
declared  we  were  near  the  continent  of  Africa  ;  but  when 
we  were  within  three  leagues  of  it  a  second  violent  storm 
arose  from  the  north,  so  that  we  again  gave  over  all 


JONATHAN   WILD  173 

hopes  of  safetj7.  This  storm  was  not  quite  so  outrageous 
as  the  former,  but  of  much  longer  continuance,  for  it 
lasted  near  three  days,  and  drove  us  an  immense  number 
of  leagues  to  the  south.  We  were  withm  a  league  of  the 
shore,  expecting  every  moment  our  ship  to  be  dashed  to 
pieces,  when  the  tempest  ceased  all  on  a  sudden  ;  but  the 
waves  still  continued  to  roll  like  mountains,  and  before 
the  sea  recovered  its  calm  motion  our  ship  was  thrown 
so  near  the  land  that  the  captain  ordered  out  his  boat, 
declaring  he  had  scarce  any  hopes  oi  saving  her ;  and 
indeed  we  had  not  quitted  her  many  minutes  before  we 
saw  the  justice  of  his  apprehensions,  for  she  struck  against 
a  rock  and  immediately  sunk.  The  behavior  of  the  sailors 
on  this  occasion  very  much  affected  me  ;  they  beheld  their 
ship  perish  with  the  tenderness  of  a  lover  or  a  parent; 
the}'  spoke  of  her  as  the  fondest  husband  would  of  his 
wife  ;  and  many  of  them,  who  seemed  to  have  no  tears  in 
their  composition,  shed  them  plentifully  at  her  sinking. 
The  captain  himself  cried  out,  '  Go  thy  wajr,  charming 
Molly,  the  sea  never  devoured  a  lovelier  morsel.  If  1 
have  fifty  vessels,  I  shall  never  love  another  like  thee. 
Poor  slut !  I  shall  remember  thee  to  my  dying  day.' 
Well,  the  boat  now  conveyed  us  all  sale  to  shore,  where 
we  landed  with  very  little  difficulty.  It  was  now  about 
noon,  and  the  rays  of  the  sun,  which  descended  almost 
perpendicular  on  our  heads,  were  extremely  hot  and 
troublesome.  However,  we  traveled  through  this  ex- 
treme heat  about  five  miles  over  a  plain.  This  brought 
us  to  a  vast  wood,  which  extended  itself  as  far  as  we  could 
see  both  to  the  right  and  left,  and  seemed  to  me  to  put  an 
entire  end  to  our  progress.  Here  we  decreed  to  rest  and 
dine  on  the  provision  which  we  had  brought  from  the 
ship,  of  which  we  had  sufficient  for  very  few  meals  ;  our 
boat  being  so  overloaded  with  people  that  we  had  very 
little  room  for  luggage  of  any  kind.  Our  repast  was  salt 
pork  broiled,  which  the  keenness  of  hunger  made  so  de- 
licious to  my  companions  that  they  fed  very  heartily  upon 


174  JONATHAN  WILD. 

it.     As  for  myself,  the  fatigue  of  my  body  and  the  vexa- 
tion of  my  mind  had  so  thoroughly  weakened  me,  that  I 
was  almost  entirely  deprived  of  appetite  ;  and  the  utmost 
dexterity  of  the  most  accomplished  French  cook  would 
have  been  ineffectual  had  he  endeavored  to  tempt  me 
with  delicacies.     I  thought  myself  very  little  a  gainer  by 
my  late  escape  from  the  tempest,  by  which  I  seemed  only 
to  have  exchanged  the  element  in  which  I  was  presently 
to  die.     When  our  company  had  sufficiently,  and  indeed 
veiy    plentifully,   feasted   themselves,   they  resolved  to 
^enter  the  wood  and  endeavor  to  pass  it,  in  expectation  of 
finding  some  inhabitants,  at  least  some  provision.      We 
proceeded  therefore  in  the  following  order  :    one  man  in 
the  front  with  a  hatchet,  to  clear  our  way,  and  two  others 
followed  him  with  guns,  to  protect  the  rest  from  wild 
beasts  ;  then  walked  the  rest  of  our  company,  and  last  of 
all  the  captain  himself,  being  armed  likewise  with  a  gun, 
to  defend  us  from  any  attack  behind — in  the  rear,  I  think 
you  call  it.     And  thus  our  whole  company,  being  four- 
teen in  number,  traveled  on  till  night  overtook  us,  without 
seeing  anything  unless  a  few  birds  and  some   very  in- 
significant animals.     We  rested  all  night  under  the  covert 
of  some  trees,  and  indeed  we  very  little  wanted  shelter  at 
that  season,  the  heat  in  the  day  being  the  only  inclemency 
we  had  to  combat  with  in  this  climate.      I  cannot  help 
telling  you  my  old  friend  lay  still  nearest  to  me  on  the 
ground,  and  declared  he  would  be  my  protector  should 
any  of  the  sailors  offer  rudeness  ;    but  I  can  acquit  them 
of  any  such  attempt ;  nor  was  I  ever  affronted  by  any 
one,  more  than  with  a  coarse  expression,  proceeding  rather 
from   the  roughness  and  ignorance  of    their    education 
than  from  any  abandoned  principle,  or  want  of  humanity. 
"  We  had  now  proceeded  very  little  way  on  our  next 
day's  march  when  one  of  the  sailors,  having  skipped  nim- 
bly up  a  hill,  with  the  assistance  of  a  speaking  trumpet 
informed  us  that  he  saw  a  town  a  very  little  way  off. 
This  news  so  comforted  me,  and  gave  me  such  strength, 


JONATHAN  WILD.  175 

as  well  as  spirits,  that,  with,  the  help  of  my  old  friend  and 
another,  who  suffered  me  to  lean  on  them,  I,  with  much 
difficulty,  attained  the  summit;  hut  was  so  absolutely 
overcome  in  climbing-  it,  that  I  had  no  longer  sufficient 
strength  to  support  my  tottering  limbs,  and  was  obliged 
to  lay  myself  again  on  the  ground ;  nor  could  they  pre- 
vail on  me  to  undertake  descending  through  a  very  thick 
wood  into  a  plain,  at  the  end  of  which  indeed  appeared 
some  houses,  or  rather  huts,  but  at  a  much  greater  dis- 
tance than  the  sailor  had  assured  us ;  the  little  way,  as  he 
had  called  it,  seeming  to  me  full  twenty  miles,  nor  was  it, 
I  believe,  much  less." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Containing  incidents  very  surprising. 

"  The  captain  declared  he  would,  without  delay,  pro- 
ceed to  the  town  before  him  ;  in  which  resolution  he  was 
seconded  by  all  the  crew  ;  but  when  I  could  not  be  per- 
suaded, nor  was  I  able  to  travel  any  farther  before  I  had 
rested  myself,  my  old  friend  protested  he  would  not  leave 
me,  but  would  stay  behind  as  my  g'uard  ;  and,  when  I  had 
refreshed  myself  with  a  little  repose,  he  would  attend  me 
to  the  town,  which  the  captain  promised  he  would  not 
leave  before  he  had  seen  us. 

"  They  were  no  sooner  departed  than  (having  first 
thanked  my  protector  for  his  care  of  me)  I  resigned  my- 
self to  sleep,  which  immediately  closed  my  eyelids,  and 
would  probably  have  detained  me  very  long  in  his  gentle 
dominion,  had  I  not  been  awaked  with  a  squeeze  by  the 
hand  of  my  guard,  which  I  at  first  thought  intended  to 
alarm  me  with  the  danger  of  some  wild  beast ;  but  I  soon 
perceived  it  arose  from  a  softer  motive,  and  that  a  gentle 
swain  was  the  only  wild  beast  I  had  to  apprehend.  He 
began  now  to  disclose  his  passion  in  the  strongest  man- 


1T6  JONATHAN  WILD. 

ner  imaginable,  indeed,  with  a  warmth  rather  beyond  that 
of  both  my  former  lovers,  but  as  3ret  without  any  attempt 
of  absolute  force.  On  my  side,  remonstrances  were  made 
in  more  bitter  exclamations  and  revilings  than  I  had  used 
to  any,  that  villain  Wild  excepted.  I  told  him  he  was  the 
basest  and  most  treacherous  wretch  alive ;  and  his  having 
cloaked  his  iniquitous  designs  under  the  appearance  of  vir- 
tue and  friendship,  added  an  ineffable  degree  of  horror  to 
them ;  that  1  detested  him  of  all  mankind  the  most ;  and 
could  I  be  brought  to  yield  to  prostitution,  he  should  be 
the  last  to  enjoy  the  ruins  of  my  honor.  He  suffered  him- 
self not  to  be  provoked  by  this  language,  but  only  changed 
his  method  of  solicitation  from  flattery  to  bribery.  He 
unripped  the  lining  of  his  waistcoat,  and  pulled  forth  sev- 
eral jewels ;  these,  he  said,  he  had  preserved  from  infinite 
danger  to  the  happiest  purpose,  if  I  could  be  won  by  them. 
I  rejected  them  often  with  the  utmost  indignation,  till  at 
last,  casting  my  eye,  rather  by  accident  than  design,  on 
a  diamond  necklace,  a  thought  like  lightning  shot  through 
my  mind,  and,  in  an  instant,  I  remembered  that  this  was 
the  very  necklace  you  had  sold  the  cursed  count,  the  cause 
of  all  our  misfortunes.  The  confusion  of  ideas  into  which 
his  surprise  hurried  me  prevented  me  reflecting  on  the 
villain  who  then  stood  before  me ;  but  the  first  recollec- 
tion presently  told  me  it  could  be  no  other  than  the  count 
himself,  the  wicked  tool  of  Wild's  barbarity.  Good  Heav- 
ens !  what  was  then  my  condition  !  How  shall  I  describe 
the  tumult  of  passions  which  then  labored  in  my  breast? 
However,  as  I  was  happily  unknown  to  him,  the  least 
suspicion  on  his  side  was  altogether  impossible.  He  im- 
puted, therefore,  the  eagerness  with  which  I  gazed  on  the 
jewels  to  a  very  wrong  cause,  and  endeavored  to  put  as 
much  additional  softness  into  his  countenance  as  he  was 
able.  My  fears  were  a  little  quieted,  and  I  was  resolved 
to  be  very  liberal  of  promises,  and  hoped  so  thoroughly 
to  persuade  him  of  my  venality  that  he  might,  without 
any  doubt,  be  drawn  in  to  wait  the  captain  and  crew's  re- 


a 
o 


o 
a 


JONATHAN  WILD.  177 

turn,  who  would,  I  was  very  certain,  not  only  preserve 
me  from  his  violence,  but  secure  the  restoration  of  what 
you  had  been  so  cruelly  robbed  of.  But,  alas  !  I  was  mis- 
taken." Mrs.  Heartfree,  again  perceiving-  symptoms  of 
the  utmost  disquietude  in  her  husband's  countenance, 
cried  out,  "  My  dear,  don't  you  apprehend  any  harm — 
but,  to. deliver  you  as  soon  as  possible  from  3rour  anxiety 
— when  he  perceived  I  declined  the  warmth  of  his  ad- 
dresses he  begged  me  to  consider  ;  he  changed  at  once 
his  voice  and  features,  and,  in  a  very  different  tone  from 
what  he  had  hitherto  affected,  he  swore  I  should  not  de- 
ceive him  as  I  had  the  captain ;  that  fortune  had  kindly 
thrown  an  opportunity  in  his  way  which  he  was  resolved 
not  foolishly  to  lose  ;  and  concluded  with  a  violent  oath 
that  he  was  determined  to  enjo}r  me  that  moment,  and 
therefore  I  knew  the  consequence  of  resistance.  He  then 
caught  me  in  his  arms,  and  began  such  rude  attempts, 
that  I  screamed  out  with  all  the  force  I  could,  though  I 
had  so  little  hope  of  being  rescued,  when  there  suddenly 
rushed  forth  from  a  thicket  a  creature,  which,  at  his  first 
appearance,  and  in  the  hurry  of  spirits  I  then  was,  I  did 
not  take  for  a  man ;  but,  indeed,  had  he  been  the  fiercest 
of  wild  beasts,  I  should  have  rejoiced  at  his  devouring  us 
both.  I  scarce  perceived  he  had  a  musket  in  his  hand  be- 
fore he  struck  my  ravisher  such  a  blow  with  it  that  he 
felled  him  at  my  feet.  He  then  advanced  with  a  gentle 
air  towards  me,  and  told  me  in  French  he  was  extremely 
glad  he  had  been  luckily  present  to  my  assistance.  He 
was  naked,  except  his  middle  and  his  feet,  if  I  can  call  a 
body  so  which  was  covered  with  hair  almost  equal  to  any 
beast  whatever.  Indeed,  his  appearance  was  so  horrid  in 
my  eyes,  that  the  friendship  he  had  shown  me,  as  well  as 
his  courteous  behavior,  could  not  entirely  remove  the 
dread  I  had  conceived  from  his  figure.  I  believe  he  saw 
this  very  visibly ;  for  he  begged  me  not  to  be  frightened, 
since,  whatever  accident  had  brought  me  thither,  I  should 
have  reason  to  thank  Heaven  for  meeting  him,  at  whose 


178  JONATHAN  WILD. 

hands  I  might  assure  myself  of  the  utmost  civility  and 
protection.  In  the  midst  of  all  this  consternation,  I  had 
spirits  enough  to  take  up  the  casket  of  jewels  which  the 
villain,  in  falling,  had  dropped  out  of  his  hands,  and  con- 
veyed it  into  my  pocket.  My  deliverer,  telling  me  that  I 
seemed  extremely  weak  and  faint,  desired  me  to  refresh 
myself  at  his  little  hut,  which,  he  said,  was  hard  by.  If 
his  demeanor  had  been  less  kind  and  obliging,  my  desper- 
ate situation  must  have  lent  me  confidence ;  for  sure  the 
alternative  could  not  be  doubtful,  whether  I  should  rather 
trust  this  man,  who,  notwithstanding  his  savage  outside, 
expressed  so  much  devotion  to  serve  me,  which  at  least  I 
was  not  certain  of  the  falsehood  of,  or  should  abide  with 
one  whom  I  so  perfectly  well  knew  to  be  an  accomplished 
villain.  I  therefore  committed  myself  to  his  guidance, 
though  with  tears  in  my  eyes,  and  begged  him  to  have 
compassion  on  my  innocence,  which  was  absolutely  in  his 
power.  He  said,  the  treatment  he  had  been  witness  of, 
which  he  supposed  was  from  one  who  had  broken  his 
trust  towards  me,  sufficiently  justified  my  suspicion ;  but 
begged  me  to  dry  my  eyes,  and  he  would  soon  convince 
me  that  I  was  with  a  man  of  different  sentiments.  The 
kind  accents  which  accompanied  these  words  gave  me 
some  comfort,  which  was  assisted  by  the  re-possession  of 
our  jewels  by  an  accident  strongly  savoring  of  the  dispo- 
sition of  Providence  in  my  favor. 

"  We  left  the  villain  weltering  in  his  blood,  though 
beginning  to  recover  a  little  motion,  and  walked  together 
to  his  hut,  or  rather  cave,  for  it  was  under  ground,  on 
the  side  of  a  hill ;  the  situation  was  very  pleasant,  and 
from  its  mouth  we  overlooked  a  large  plain  and  the  town 
I  had  before  seen.  As  soon  as  I  entered  it,  he  desired  me 
to  sit  down  on  a  bench  of  earth,  which  served  him  for 
chairs,  and  then  laid  before  me  some  fruits,  the  wild 
product  of  that  country,  one  or  two  of  which  had  an  ex- 
cellent flavor.  He  likewise  produced  some  baked  flesh,  a 
little  resembling  that  of  venison.     He  then  brought  forth 


JONATHAN  WILD.  179 

a  bottle  of  brandy,  which  he  said  had  remained  with  him 
ever  since  his  settling1  there,  now  above  thirty  years, 
during  all  which  time  he  had  never  opened  it,  his  only 
liquor  being  water ;  that  he  had  reserved  this  bottle  as  a 
cordial  in  sickness  ;  but,  he  thanked  Heaven,  he  had 
never  yet  had  occasion  for  it.  He  then  acquainted  me 
that  he  was  a  hermit,  that  he  had  been  formerly  cast 
away  on  that  coast,  with  his  wife,  whom  he  dearly  loved, 
but  could  not  preserve  from  perishing ;  on  which  account 
he  had  resolved  never  to  return  to  France,  which  was  his 
native  country,  but  to  devote  himself  to  prayer  and  a 
holy  life,  placing  all  his  hopes  in  the  blessed  expectation 
of  meeting  that  dear  woman  again  in  Heaven,  where,  he 
was  convinced,  she  was  now  a  saint  and  an  interceder  for 
him.  He  said  he  had  exchanged  a  watch  with  the  king 
of  that  country,  whom  he  described  to  be  a  very  just  and 
good  man,  for  a  gun,  some  powder,  shot,  and  ball,  with 
which  he  sometimes  provided  himself  food,  but  more 
generally  used  it  in  defending  himself  against  wild  beasts ; 
so  that  his  diet  was  chiefly  of  the  vegetable  kind.  He 
told  me  many  more  circumstances,  which  I  may  relate  to 
you  hereafter  :  but,  to  be  as  concise  as  possible  at  present, 
he  at  length  greatly  comforted  me  by  promising  to  con- 
duct me  to  a  seaport,  where  I  might  have  an  oppor- 
tunity to  meet  with  some  vessels  trafficking  for  slaves ; 
and  whence  I  might  once  more  commit  myself  to  that 
element  which,  though  I  had  already  suffered  so  much 
on  it,  I  must  again  trust  to  put  me  in  possession  of  all  I 
lovea. 

"  The  character  he  gave  me  of  the  inhabitants  of 
the  town  we  saw  below  us,  and  of  their  king,  made 
me  desirous  of  being  conducted  thither;  especially  as 
I  very  much  wished  to  see  the  captain  and  sailors,  who 
had  behaved  very  kindly  to  me,  and  with  whom,  notwith- 
standing all  the  civil  behavior  of  the  hermit,  I  was  rather 
easier  in  my  mind  than  alone  with  this  single  man ;  but 
he  dissuaded  me  greatly  from  attempting  such  a  walk 


180  JONATHAN   WILD. 

till  I  had  recruited  my  spirits  with  rest,  desiring-  me  to 
repose  myself  on  his  couch  or  bank,  saying*  that  he  him- 
self would  retire  without  the  cave,  where  he  would  re- 
main as  my  guard.  I  accepted  this  kind  proposal,  but  it 
was  long  before  I  could  procure  any  slumber ;  however, 
at  length,  weariness  prevailed  over  my  fears,  and  I  en- 
joyed several  hours'  sleep.  When  I  awaked  I  found  my 
faithful  sentinel  on  his  post  and  ready  at  my  summons. 
This  behavior  infused  some  confidence  into  me,  and  I  now 
repeated  my  request  that  he  would  go  with  me  to  the 
town  below  ;  but  he  answered,  it  would  be  better  advised 
to  take  some  repast  before  I  undertook  the  journey, 
which  I  should  find  much  longer  than  it  appeared.  I 
consented,  and  he  set  forth  a  greater  variety  of  fruits 
than  before,  of  which  I  ate  very  plentifully.  My  collation 
being  ended,  I  renewed  the  mention  of  my  walk,  but  he 
still  persisted  in  dissuading  me,  telling  me  that  I  was  not 
yet  strong  enough  ;  that  I  could  repose  myself  nowhere 
with  greater  safety  than  in  his  cave ;  and  that,  for  his 
part,  he  could  have  no  greater  happiness  than  that  of  at- 
tending me,  adding,  with  a  sigh,  it  was  a  happiness  he 
should  envy  any  other  more  than  all  the  gifts  of  fortune. 
You  may  imagine  I  began  now  to  entertain  suspicions ; 
but  he  presently  removed  all  doubt  by  throwing  himself 
at  my  feet  and  expressing  the  warmest  passion  for  me. 
I  should  have  now  sunk  with  despair  had  he  not  accom- 
panied these  professions  with  the  most  vehement  protest- 
ations that  he  would  never  offer  me  any  other  force  but 
that  of  entreaty,  and  that  he  would  rather  die  the  most 
cruel  death  by  my  coldness  than  gain  the  highest  bliss  by 
becoming  the  occasion  of  a  tear  of  sorrow  to  these  bright 
eyes,  which  he  said  were  stars,  under  whose  benign  in- 
fluence alone  he  could  enjoy,  or  indeed  suffer  life."  She 
was  repeating  many  more  compliments  he  made  her, 
when  a  horrid  uproar,  which  alarmed  the  whole  gate,  put 
a  stop  to  her  narration  at  present.  It  is  impossible  for 
me  to  give  the  reader  a  better  idea  of  the  noise  which 


JONATHAN  WILD.  181 

now  arose  than  by  desiring  him  to  imagine  I  had  the 
hundred  tongues  the  poet  once  wished  for,  and  was 
vociferating  from  them  all  at  once,  by  holloing,  scolding, 
crying,  swearing,  bellowing,  and,  in  short,  by  every  dif- 
ferent articulation  which  is  within  the  scope  of  the  human 
organ. 


CHAPTER    X. 

A  horrible  uproar  in  the  Gate. 

But  however  great  an  idea  the  reader  may  hence  con- 
ceive of  this  uproar,  he  will  think  the  occasion  more  than 
adequate  to  it  when  he  is  informed  that  our  hero  (I  blush 
to  name  it)  had  discovered  an  injury  done  to  his  honor, 
and  that  in  the  tenderest  point.  In  a  word,  reader  (for 
thou  must  know  it,  though  it  give  thee  the  greatest 
horror  imaginable),  he  had  caught  Fireblood  in  the  arms 
of  his  lovely  Laetitia. 

As  the  generous  bull  who,  having  long  depastured 
among  a  number  of  cows,  and  thence  contracted  an 
opinion  that  these  cows  are  all  his  own  property,  if  he 
beholds  another  bull  bestride  a  cow  within  his  walks,  he 
roars  aloud,  and  threatens  instant  vengeance  with  his 
horns,  till  the  whole  parish  are  alarmed  with  his  bellow- 
ing ;  not  with  less  noise  nor  less  dreadful  menaces  did  the 
fury  of  Wild  burst  forth  and  terrify  the  whole  gate. 
Long  time  did  rage  render  his  voice  inarticulate  to  the 
hearer ;  as  when,  at  a  visiting  day,  fifteen  or  sixteen  or 
perhaps  twice  as  many  females,  of  delicate  but  shrill 
pipes,  ejaculate  all  at  once  on  different  subjects,  all  is 
sound  only,  the  harmony  entirely  melodious  indeed,  but 
conveys  no  idea  to  our  ears ;  but  at  length,  when  reason 
began  to  get  the  better  of  his  passion,  which  latter,  being 
deserted  by  his  breath,  began  a  little  to  retreat,  the  fol- 
lowing accents  leapt  over  the  hedge  of  his  teeth,  or  rather 
the  ditch  of  his  gums,  whence  those  hedgestakes  had  long 


182  JONATHAN  WILD. 

since  by  a  patten  been  displaced  in  battle  with  an  amazon 
of  Drury. 

* — "  Man  of  honor !  doth  this  become  a  friend  ?  Could 
I  have  expected  such  a  breach  of  all  the  laws  of  honor 
from  thee,  whom  I  had  taught  to  walk  in  its  paths  ? 
Hadst  thou  chosen  any  other  way  to  injure  my  confidence 
I  could  have  forgiven  it ;  but  this  is  a  stab  in  the  tender  - 
est  part,  a  wound  never  to  be  healed,  an  injury  never  to 
be  repaired ;  for  it  is  not  only  the  loss  of  an  agreeable 
companion,  of  the  affection  of  a  wife  dearer  to  my  soul 
than  life  itself,  it  is  not  this  loss  alone  I  lament;  this  loss 
is  accompanied  with  disgrace  and  with  dishonor.  The 
blood  of  the  "Wilds,  which  hath  run  with  such  uninter- 
rupted purity  through  so  many  generations,  this  blood  is 
fouled,  is  contaminated:  hence  flow  my  tears,  hence  arises 
my  grief.     This  is  the  injury  never  to  be  redressed,  nor 

ever  to  be  with  honor  forgiven." — "  M in  a  bandbox! ': 

answered  Fireblood ;  "here  is  a  noise  about  your  honor! 
If  the  mischief  done  to  your  blood  be  all  you  complain  of, 
I  am  sure  you  complain  of  nothing ;  for  my  blood  is  as 
good  as  yours." — "You  have  no  conception,"  replied 
Wild,  "  of  the  tenderness  of  honor;  you  know  not  how 
nice  and  delicate  it  is  in  both  sexes ;  so  delicate  that  the 
least  breath  of  air  which  rudely  blows  on  it  destroys  it." — 
"  I  will  prove  from  your  own  words,"  says  Fireblood,  "  I 
have  not  wronged  your  honor.  Have  you  not  often  told 
me  that  the  honor  of  a  man  consisted  in  receiving  no 
affront  from  his  own  sex,  and  that  of  woman  in  receiving 
no  kindness  from  ours  ?  Now  sir,  if  I  have  given  you  no 
affront,  how  have  I  injured  your  honor?" — "But  doth 
not  everything,"  cried  Wild,  "  of  the  wife  belong  to  the 
husband  ?  A  married  man,  therefore,  hath  his  wife's 
honor  as  well  as  his  own,  and  by  injuring  hers  you  injure 
his.  How  cruelly  you  have  hurt  me  in  this  tender  part  I 
need  not  repeat ;  the  whole  gate  knows  it,  and  the  world 
shall.     I  will  apply  to  Doctors'  Commons  for  my  redress 

*  The  beginning  of  this  «peech  is  lost. 


K 

h 


c 


c 

|z 

fl 


JONATHAN  WILD.  183 

against  her;  I  will  shake  off  as  much  of  my  dishonor  as  I 
can  by  parting-  with  her ;  and  as  for  you,  expect  to  hear 
of  me  in  Westminster-hall ;  the  modern  method  of  repair- 
ing these  breaches  and  resenting  this  affront." — "D — n 
your  eyes  ?  "  cries  Fireblood;  "  I  fear  you  not,  norjdo  I  be- 
lieve a  word  you  say." — "Nay,  if  you  affront  me  person- 
ally, "say  s  Wild '  'an  other  sort  of  resentment  is  prescribed . '  * 
At  which  word,  advancing  to  Fireblood,  he  presented 
him  with  a  box  on  the  ear,  which  the  youth  immediately 
returned ;  and  now  our  hero  and  his  friend  fell  to  boxing, 
though  with  some  difficulty,  both  being  encumbered  with 
the  chains  which  the}7"  wore  between  their  legs:  a  few 
blows  passed  on  both  sides  before  the  gentlemen  who 
stood  by  stepped  in  and  parted  the  combatants ;  and  now, 
both  parties  having  whispered  each  other,  that,  if  they 
outlived  the  ensuing  sessions  and  escaped  the  tree,  one 
should  give  and  the  other  should  receive  satisfaction  in 
single  combat,  they  separated  and  the  gate  soon  recov- 
ered its  former  tranquility. 

Mrs.  Heartfree  was  then  desired  by  the  justice  and  her 
husband  both,  to  conclude  her  story,  which  she  did  in 
the  words  of  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

The  conclusion  of  Mrs.  Heartfree's  adventures. 

"  If  I  mistake  not,  I  was  interrupted  just  as  I  was  be- 
ginning to  repeat  some  of  the  compliments  made  me  by 
the  hermit." — "  Just  as  you  had  finished  them,  1  believe, 
madam,"  said  the  justice. — "  Very  well,  sir, "  said  she; 
"I  am  sure  I  have  no  pleasure  in  the  repetition.  He 
concluded  then  with  telling  me,  though  I  was  in  his  eyes 
the  most  charming  woman  in  the  world,  and  might  tempt 
a  saint  to  abandon  the  ways  of  holiness,  yet  my  beauty 
inspired  him  with  a  much  tenderer  affection  towards  me 


184  JONATHAN  WILD. 

than  to  purchase  any  satisfaction  of  his  own  desires  with 
my  misery;  if  therefore  I  could  he  so  cruel  to  him  to  re- 
ject his  honest  and  sincere  address,  nor  could  submit  to  a 
solitary  life  with  one  who  would  endeavor  by  all  possi- 
ble means  to  make  me  happy,  I  had  no  force  to  dread  ; 
for  that  I  was  as  much  at  my  liberty  as  if  I  was  in 
France,  or  England,  or  any  other  free  country.  I  repulsed 
him  with  the  same  civility  with  which  he  advanced  ;  and 
told  him  that,  as  he  professed  great  regard  to  religion,  I 
was  convinced  he  would  cease  from  all  farther  solicita- 
tion when  I  informed  him  that,  if  I  had  no  other  objec- 
tion, my  own  innocence  would  not  admit  of  my  hearing 
him  on  this  subject,  for  that  I  was  married.  He  started 
a  little  at  that  word,  and  was  for  some  time  silent ;  but, 
at  length  recovering  himself,  he  began  to  urge  the  uncer- 
tainty of  my  husband's  being  alive,  and  the  probability 
of  the  contrary.  He  then  spoke  of  marriage  as  of  a  civil 
policy  only,  on  which  head  he  urged  many  arguments 
not  worth  repeating,  and  was  growing  so  very  eager  and 
importunate  that  1  know  not  whither  his  passion  might 
have  hurried  him  had  not  three  of  the  sailors,  well  armed, 
appeared  at  that  instant  in  sight  of  the  cave.  I  no 
sooner  saw  them  than,  exulting  with  the  utmost  inward 
joy,  I  told  him  my  companions  were  come  for  me,  and 
that  I  must  now  take  my  leave  of  him ;  assuring  him  that 
I  would  always  remember,  with  the  most  grateful  ac- 
knowledgment, the  favors  I  had  received  at  his  hands. 
He  fetched  a  very  heavy  sigh,  and,  squeezing  me  tenderly 
by  the  hand,  he  saluted  my  lips  with  a  little  more  eager- 
ness than  the  European  salutations  admit  of,  and  told  me 
he  should  likewise  remember  my  arrival  at  his  cave  to 
the  last  day  of  his  life,  adding,  O  that  he  could  there 
spend  the  whole  in  the  company  of  one  whose  bright  eyes 
had  kindled — but  I  know  you  will  think,  sir,  that  we  wo- 
men love  to  repeat  the  compliments  made  us,  I  will  there- 
fore omit  them.  In  a  word,  the  sailors  being  now  ar- 
rived, I  quitted  him  with  some  compassion  for  the  reluct- 


JONATHAN  WILD.  185 

ance  with  which  he  parted  from  me,  and  went  forward 
with  my  companions. 

"  We  had  proceeded  but  a  very  few  paces  before  one  of 
the  sailors  said  to  his  comrades,  '  D — n  me,  Jack,  who 
knows  whether  yon  fellow  hath  not  some  good  flip  in  his 
cave  ?"  I  innocently  answered,  the  poor  wretch  had 
only  one  bottle  of  brandy.  '  Hath  he  so  ?'  cries  the  sailor; 
'  'Fore  George,  we  will  taste  it;'  and  so  saying-  they  im- 
mediately returned  back,  and  mj^self  with  them.  We 
found  the  poor  man  prostrate  on  the  ground,  expressing 
all  the  symptoms  of  misery  and  lamentation.  I  told  him 
in  French  (for  the  sailors  could  not  speak  that  language) 
what  they  wanted.  He  pointed  to  the  place  where  the 
bottle  was  deposited,  saying  they  were  welcome  to  that 
and  whatever  else  he  had,  and  added  he  cared  not  if  they 
took  his  life  also.  The  sailors  searched  the  whole  cave, 
where  finding  nothing  more  which  they  deemed  worth 
their  taking,  they  walked  off  with  the  bottle,  and,  im- 
mediately emptying  it  without  offering  me  a  drop,  they 
proceeded  with  me  towards  the  town. 

"  In  our  way  I  observed  one  whisper  another,  while  he 
kept  his  eye  steadfastly  fixed  on  me.  This  gave  me  some 
uneasiness  ;  but  the  other  answered,  '  No,  d — n  me,  the 
captain  will  never  forgive  us  :  besides,  we  have  enough  of 
it  among  the  black  women,  and,  in  my  mind,  one  color  is 
as  good  as  another.  This  was  enough  to  give  me  violent 
apprehensions  ;  but  I  heard  no  more  of  that  kind  till  we 
came  to  the  town,  where,  in  about  six  hours,  I  arrived  in 
safety. 

"  As  soon  as  I  came  to  the  captain  he  inquired  what 
was  become  of  my  friend,  meaning  the  villainous  count. 
When  he  was  informed  by  me  of  what  had  happened,  he 
wished  me  heartily  joy  of  my  delivery,  and,  expressing 
the  utmost  abhorrence  of  such  baseness,  swore  if  ever 
he  met  him  he  would  cut  his  throat ,  but,  indeed,  we  both 
concluded  that  he  had  died  of  the  blow  which  the  hermit 
had  given  him. 


186  JONATHAN  WILD. 

"  I  was  now  introduced  to  the  chief  magistrate  of  this 
country,  who  was  desirous  of  seeing  me.  I  will  give  you 
a  short  description  of  him.  He  was  chosen  (as  is  the  cus- 
tom there)  for  his  superior  bravery  and  wisdom.  His 
power  is  entirely  absolute  during  his  continuance ;  but, 
on  the  first  deviation  from  equity  and  justice,  he  is  liable 
to  be  deposed  and  punished  by  the  people,  the  elders  of 
whom,  once  a  year,  assemble  to  examine  into  his  conduct. 
Besides  the  danger  which  these  examinations,  which  are 
very  strict,  expose  him  to,  his  office  is  of  such  care  and 
trouble  that  nothing  but  that  restless  love  of  power  so 
predominant  in  the  mind  of  man  could  make  it  the  object 
of  desire,  for  he  is  indeed  the  only  slave  of  all  the  natives 
of  this  country.  He  is  obliged,  in  time  of  peace,  to  hear 
the  complaint  of  every  person  in  his  dominions,  and  to 
render  him  justice  ;  for  which  purpose  everyone  may  de- 
mand an  audience  of  him,  unless  during  the  hour  which 
he  is  allowed  for  dinner,  when  he  sits  alone  at  the  table, 
and  is  attended  in  the  most  public  manner  with  more 
than  European  ceremony.  This  is  done  to  create  an  awe 
and  respect  towards  him  in  the  eye  of  the  vulgar ;  but 
lest  it  should  elevate  him  too  much  in  his  own  opinion,  in 
order  to  his  humiliation  he  receives  every  evening  in  pri- 
vate, from  a  kind  of  beadle,  a  gentle  kick  on  his  posteriors ; 
besides  which  he  wears  a  ring  in  his  nose  somewhat  re- 
sembling that  we  ring  our  pigs  with,  and  a  chain  round 
his  neck  not  unlike  that  worn  by  our  aldermen ;  both 
which  I  suppose  to  be  emblematical,  but  heard  not  [the 
reasons  of  either  assigned.  There  are  many  more  par- 
ticularities among  these  people  which,  when  I  have  an 
opportunity,  I  may  relate  to  you.  The  second  day  after 
my  return  from  court  one  of  his  officers,  whom  they  call 
Schach  Pimpach,  waited  upon  me,  and,  by  a  French  in- 
terpreter who  lives  here,  informed  me  that  the  chief  mag- 
istrate liked  my  person,  and  offered  me  an  immense 
present  if  I  would  suffer  him  to  enjoy  it  (this  is,  it  seems, 
their  common  form  of  making  love).     I  rejected  the  pres- 


JONATHAN  WILD.  18? 

ent,  and  never  heard  any  further  solicitation  ;  for,  as  it  is 
no  shame  for  women  here  to  consent  at  the  first  proposal, 
so  they  never  receive  a  second. 

"  I  had  resided  in  this  town  a  week  when  the  captain 
informed  me  that  a  number  of  slaves,  who  had  been  taken 
captives  in  war,  were  to  be  guarded  to  the  seaside,  where 
they  were  to  be  sold  to  the  merchants  who  traded  in  them 
to  America  ;  that  if  I  would  embrace  this  opportunity  I 
might  assure  ni3Tself  of  finding  a  passage  to  America, 
and  thence  to  England  ;  acquainting  me  at  the  same  time 
that  he  himself  intended  to  go  with  them.  I  readily  agreed 
to  accompany  him.  The  chief,  being  advised  of  our 
designs,  sent  for  us  both  to  court,  and,  without  mention- 
ing one  word  of  love  to  me,  having  presented  me  with  a 
very  rich  jewel,  of  less  value,  he  said,  than  my  chastity, 
took  a  very  civil  leave,  recommending  me  to  the  care  of 
Heaven,  and  ordering  us  a  large  supply  of  provisions  for 
our  journey. 

"We  were  provided  with  mules  for  ourselves  and  what 
we  carried  with  us,  and  in  nine  days  reached  the  seashore, 
where  we  found  an  English  vessel  ready  to  receive  both 
us  and  the  slaves.  We  went  aboard  it,  and  sailed  the 
next  day  with  a  fair  wind  for  New  England,  where  I 
hoped  to  get  an  immediate  passage  to  the  Old  :  but  Prov- 
idence was  kinder  than  my  expectation  ;  for  the  third  day 
after  we  were  at  sea  we  met  an  English  man-of-war 
homeward  bound  ;  the  captain  of  it  was  a  very  good- 
natured  man,  and  agreed  to  take  me  on  board.  I  accord- 
ingly took  my  leave  of  my  old  friend,  the  master  of  the 
shipwrecked  vessel,  who  went  on  to  New  England,  whence 
he  intended  to  pass  to  Jamaica,  where  his  owners  lived. 
I  was  now  treated  with  great  civility,  had  a  little  cabin 
assigned  me,  and  dined  every  day  at  the  captain's  table, 
who  was  indeed  a  very  gallant  man,  and,  at  first,  made 
me  a  tender  of  his  affections  ;  but,  when  he  found  me 
resolutely  bent  to  preserve  myself  pure  and  entire  for  the 
best  of  husbands,  he  grew  cooler  in  his  addresses,  and 


188  JONATHAN  WILD. 

soon  behaved  in  a  manner  very  pleasing-  to  me,  regarding 
my  sex  only  so  far  as  to  pay  me  a  deference,  which  is 
very  agreeable  to  us  all. 

"  To  conclude  my  story  :  I  met  with  no  adventure  in 
this  passage  at  all  worth  relating  till  my  landing  at 
Gravesend,  whence  the  captain  brought  me  in  his  own 
boat  to  the  tower.  In  a  short  hour  after  my  arrival  we 
had  that  meeting  which,  however  dreadful  at  first,  will, 
I  now  hope,  by  the  good  offices  of  the  best  of  men,  whom 
Heaven  forever  bless,  end  in  our  perfect  happiness,  and 
be  a  strong  instance  of  what  I  am  persuaded  is  the  surest 

truth,  THAT  PROVIDENCE  WILL  SOONER  OR  LATER  PROCURE 
THE  FELICITY  OF  THE  VIRTUOUS  AND  INNOCENT. 

Mrs.  Heartfree  thus  ended  her  speech,  having  before 
delivered  to  her  husband  the  jewels  which  the  count  had 
robbed  him  of,  and  that  presented  her  by  the  African 
chief,  which  last  was  of  immense  value.  The  good 
magistrate  was  sensibly  touched  at  her  narrative,  as  well 
on  the  consideration  of  the  sufferings  she  had  herself 
undergone  as  for  those  of  her  husband,  which  he  had  him- 
self been  innocently  the  instrument  of  bringing  upon  him. 
That  worthy  man,  however,  much  rejoiced  in  what  he  had 
already  done  for  his  preservation,  and  promised  to  labor 
with  his  utmost  interest  and  industry  to  procure  the  abso- 
lute pardon,  rather  of  his  sentence  than  of  his  guilt, 
which  he  now  plainly  discovered  was  a  barbarous  and 
false  imputation. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

The  history  returns  to  the  contemplation  of  greatness. 
But  we  have  already,  perhaps,  detained  our  reader  too 
long  in  this  relation  from  the  consideration  of  our  hero, 
who  daily  gave  the  most  exalted  proofs  of  greatness  in 
cajoling  the  prigs,  and  in  exactions  on  the  debtors  ;  which 
latter  now  grew  so  great,  i.e.,  corrupted  in  their  morals, 


JONATHAN  WILD.  189 

that  they  spoke  with  the  utmost  contempt  of  what  the 
vulgar  call  honesty.  The  greatest  character  among  them 
was  that  of  a  pickpocket,  or,  in  truer  language,  a  file  ; 
and  the  only  censure  was  want  of  dexterity.  As  to  vir- 
tue, goodness,  and  such  like,  they  were  the  objects  of 
mirth  and  derision,  and  all  Newgate  was  a  complete  col- 
lection of  prigs,  every  man  being  desirous  to  pick  his 
neighbor's  pocket,  and  every  one  was  as  sensible  that  his 
neighbor  was  as  ready  to  pick  his ;  so  that  (which  is 
almost  incredible)  as  great  roguery  daily  was  committed 
within  the  walls  of  Newgate  as  without. 

The  glory  resulting  from  these  actions  of  Wild  prob- 
ably animated  the  envy  of  his  enemies  against  him.  The 
day  of  his  trial  now  approached  ;  for  which,  as  Socrates 
did,  he  prepared  himself  ;  but  not  weakly  and  foolishly, 
like  that  philosopher,  with  patience  and  resignation,  but 
with  a  good  number  of  false  witnesses.  However,  as 
success  is  not  always  proportioned  to  the  wisdom  of  him 
who  endeavors  to  attain  it,  so  are  we  more  sorry  than 
ashamed  to  relate  that  our  hero  was,  notwithstanding  his 
utmost  caution  and  prudence,  convicted,  and  sentenced  to 
a  death  which,  when  we  consider  not  only  the  great  men 
who  have  suffered  it,  but  the  much  larger  number  of 
vhose  whose  highest  honor  it  hath  been  to  merit  it,  we 
cannot  call  otherwise  than  honorable.  Indeed  those 
who  have  unluckily  missed  it  seem  all  their  days  to  have 
labored  in  vain  to  attain  an  end  which  Fortune,  for  rea- 
sons only  known  to  herself,  hath  thought  proper  to  deny 
them.  Without  any  farther  preface  then,  our  hero  was 
sentenced  to  be  hanged  by  the  neck:  but,  whatever  was 
to  be  now  his  fate,  he  might  console  himself  that  he  had 
perpetrated  what 

Nee  Judicis  ira,  nee  ignis, 

Nee  poterit  ferrum,  nee  edax  abolere  vetustas. 

For  my  own  part,  I  confess,  I  look  on  this  death  of  hang- 
ing to  be  as  proper  for  a  hero  as  any  other ;  and  I 
solemnly  declare  that  had  Alexander  the  Great  been 


190  JONATHAN  WILD. 

hanged  it  would  not  in  the  least  have  diminished  my  re- 
spect to  his  memory.  Provided  a  hero  in  his  life  doth 
but  execute  a  sufficient  quantity  of  mischief ;  provided  he 
be  but  well  and  heartily  cursed  by  the  widow,  the  orphan, 
the  poor,  and  the  oppressed  (the  sole  rewards,  as  many 
authors  have  bitterly  lamented  both  in  prose  and  verse, 
of  greatness,  i.e.  priggism),  I  think  it  avails  little  of 
what  nature  his  death  be,  whether  it  be  by  the  axe,  the 
halter,  or  the  sword.  Such  names  will  be  always  sure  of 
living  to  posterity,  and  of  enjoying  that  fame  which  they 
so  gloriously  and  eagerly  coveted ;  for  according  to  a 
great  dramatic  poet, 

Fame 
Not  more  survives  from  good  than  evil  deeds. 
TV  aspiring  youth  that  fired  Ephesian  dome 
Outlives  in  fame  the  pious  fool  who  rais'd  it. 

Our  hero  now  suspected  that  the  malice  of  his  enemies 
would  overpower  him.  He  therefore  betook  himself  to 
that  true  support  of  greatness  in  affliction,  a  bottle ;  by 
means  of  which  he  was  enabled  to  curse,  swear  and  bully 
and  brave  his  fate.  Other  comfort  indeed  he  had  not 
much,  for  not  a  single  friend  ever  came  near  him.  His 
wife,  whose  trial  was  deferred  to  the  next  sessions,  visited 
him  but  once,  when  she  plagued,  tormented,  and  up- 
braided him  so  cruelly,  that  he  forbade  the  keeper  ever 
to  admit  her  again.  The  ordinary  of  Newgate  had  fre- 
quent conferences  with  him,  and  greatly  would  it  em- 
bellish our  history  could  we  record  all  which  that  good 
man  delivered  on  these  occasions;  but  unhappily  we 
could  procure  only  the  substance  of  a  single  conference, 
which  was  taken  down  in  shorthand  by  one  who  over- 
heard it.  We  shall  transcribe  it,  therefore,  exactly  in 
the  same  form  and  words  we  received  it ;  nor  can  we 
help  regarding  it  as  one  of  the  most  curious  pieces  which 
either  ancient  or  modern  history  hath  recorded. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  191 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

-  i  dialogue,  beticeen  the  ordinary  of  Newgate  and  Mr.  Jonathan 
Wild  the  Great ;  in  which  the  subjects  of  death,  immortality, 
and  other  grave  matters,  are  very  learnedly  handled  by  the 
former. 

Ordinary.  Good  morrow  to  you,  sir ;  I  hope  you  rested 
well  last  night. 

Jonathan.  D — n'd  ill ;  sir.  I  dreamt  so  confoundedly 
of  hanging,  that  it  disturbed  my  sleep. 

Ordinary.  Fie  upon  it !  You  should  be  more  resigned. 
I  wish  you  would  make  a  little  better  use  of  those  instruc- 
tions which  I  have  endeavored  to  inculcate  into  you,  and 
particularly  last  Sunday,  and  from  these  words  :  Those 
who  do  evil  shall  go  into  everlasting  fire,  prepared  for 
the  devil  and  his  angels.  I  undertook  to  show  you, 
first,  what  is  meant  by  everlasting  fire  ;  and,  sec- 
ondly, who  were  the  devil  and  his  angels.  I  then 
proceeded  to  draw  some  inferences  from  the  whole*;  in 
which  I  am  mightily  deceived  if  I  did  not  convince  you 
that  you  yourself  was  one  of  those  angels,  and,  conse- 
quently, must  expect  everlasting  fire  to  be  your  por- 
tion in  the  other  world. 

Jonathan.  Faith,  doctor,  I  remember  very  little  of 
your  inferences ;  for  I  fell  asleep  soon  after  your  naming 
the  text.  But  did  you  preach  this  doctrine  then,  or  do 
you  repeat  it  now  in  order  to  comfort  me  ? 

Ordinary.  I  do  it  in  order  to  bring  you  to  a  true  sense 
of  your  manifold  sins,  and  by  that  means,  to  induce  you 
to  repentance.  Indeed,  had  I  the  eloquence  of  Cicero,  or 
of  Tulry,  it  would  not  be  sufficient  to  describe  the  pains 
of  hell  or  the  joys  of  heaven.  The  utmost  that  we  are 
taught  is,  that  ear  hath  not  heard,  nor  can  heart  con- 
ceive. Who  then  would,  for  the  pitiful  consideration  of 
the  riches  and  pleasures  of  this  world,  forfeit  such  inesti- 

*  He  pronounced  this  word  HULL,  and  perhaps  would  have  spelt  it  so. 


St.  * 

*            * 

* 

* 

If  once  con- 

* 

no  man     * 

* 

*               * 

* 

opportunity 

* 

*            * 

* 

aist  * 

ari  *  *  cinian 

192  JONATHAN  WILD. 

mable  happiness !  such  joys !  such  pleasures !  such 
delights  ?  Or  who  would  run  the  venture  of  such  misery, 
which,  but  to  think  on,  shocks  the  human  understanding-  ? 
Who,  in  his  senses,  then,  would  prefer  the  latter  to  the 
former  ? 

Jonathan.  Ay,  who  indeed  ?     I  assure  you,  doctor,  I 
had  much  rather  be  happy  than  miserable.     But  f 

*  *  *  *  # 

Ordinary.  Nothing-  can  be  plainer. 

*  *  *  *  * 

Jonathan.  *  *  * 

vinced  *  *  *  * 

*  lives  of  *  *  * 

*  *     whereas  sure  the  clergy  * 

*  *        better  informed  * 

*  all  manner  of  vice    *  * 
Ordinary.  *  are  *  atheist*         *    ( 

*  hanged  *  *  burnt  *  *  oiled  *  oasted.*  *  *  dev  *  *  his  an  *  * 

*  ell  fire  *  *  ternal  da  *  *  tion. 

Jonathan.  You  *  *  *  to  frighten  me  out  of  my  wits.  But 
the  good  *  *  *  is,  I  doubt  not,  more  merciful  than  his  wick- 
ed *  *  If  I  should  believe  all  you  say,  I  am  sure  I  should 
die  in  inexpressible  horror. 

Ordinary.  Despair  is  sinful.  You  should  place  your 
hopes  in  repentance  and  grace ;  and  though  it  is  most  true 
that  you  are  in  danger  of  the  judgment,  yet  there  is  still 
room  for  mercy ;  and  no  man,  unless  excommunicated,  is 
absolutely  without  hopes  of  a  reprieve. 

Jonathan.  I  am  not  without  hopes  of  a  reprieve  from 
the  cheat  yet.  I  have  pretty  good  interest ;  but,  if  I  can- 
not obtain  it,  you  shall  not  frighten  me  out  of  my  cour- 
age. I  will  not  die  like  a  pimp.  D — n  me,  what  is  death  ? 
It  is  nothing  but  to  be  with  Platos  and  with  Ceesars,  as 

the  poet  says,  and  all  the  other  great  heroes  of  antiquity. 

******* 

Ordinary.  Ay,  all  this  is   very  true  ;  but  life  is  sweet 

t  This  part  so  blotted  that  it  was  illegible. 


JONATHAN   WILD.  193 

for  all  that ;  and  I  had  rather  live  to  eternity  than  go 
into  the  company  of  any  such  heathens,  who  are,  I  doubt 
not,  in  hell  with  the  devil  and  his  angels,  and,  as  little 
as  you  seem  to  apprehend  it,  you  may  find  yourself  there 
before  you  expect  it.  Where,  then,  will  be  your  taunt- 
ings  and  your  vauntings,  your  boastings  and  your  brag- 
gings ?  You  will  then  be  ready  to  give  more  for  a  drop 
of  water  than  you  ever  gave  for  a  bottle  of  wine. 

Jonathan.  Faith,  doctor  !  well  minded.  What  say  you 
to  a  bottle  of  wine  ? 

Ordinary.  I  will  drink  no  wine  with  an  atheist.  I 
should  expect  the  devil  to  make  a  third  in  such  company ; 
for,  since  he  knows  you  are  his,  he  may  be  impatient  to 
have  his  due. 

Jonathan.  It  is  your  business  to  drink  with  the  wicked, 
in  order  to  amend  them. 

Ordinary.  I  despair  of  it ;  and  so  I  consign  you  over  to 
the  devil,  who  is  ready  to  receive  you. 

Jonathan.  You  are  more  unmerciful  to  me  than  the 
judge,  doctor.  He  recommended  my  soul  to  heaven; 
and  it  is  your  office  to  show  me  the  way  thither. 

Ordinary.  No ;  the  gates  are  barred  against  all  revilers 
of  the  clergy. 

Jonathan.  I  revile  only  the  wicked  ones,  if  any  such 
are,  which  cannot  affect  you  ;  who,  if  men  were  preferred 
in  the  church  by  merit  only,  would  have  long  since  been 
a  bishop.  Indeed,  it  might  raise  snay  good  man's  indig- 
nation to  observe  one  of  your  vast  learning  and  abilities 
obliged  to  exert  them  in  so  low  a  sphere,  when  so  many 
of  your  inferiors  wallow  in  wealth  and  preferment. 

Ordinary.  Why,  it  must  be  confessed  that  there  are 
bad  men  in  all  orders ;  but  you  should  not  censure  too 
generally.  I  must  own  I  might  have  expected  higher 
promotion ;  but  I  have  learnt  patience  and  resignation ; 
and  I  would  advise  you  to  the  same  temper  of  mind ; 
which,  if  3rou  can  attain,  I  know  you  will  find  mercy. 
Kay,  I  do  now  promise  you  you  will.     It  is  true  you  are  a 


194  JONATHAN  WILD. 

sinner  ;  but  your  crimes  are  not  of  the  blackest  dye  :  you 
are  no  murderer,  nor  guilty  of  sacrilege.  And,  if  you  are 
g-uiity  of  theft,  you  make  some  atonement  by  suffering 
for  it,  which  many  others  do  not.  Happy  it  is  indeed  for 
those  few  who  are  detected  in  their  sins,  and  brought  to 
exemplary  punishment  for  them  in  this  world.  So  far, 
therefore,  from  repining  at  youv  fate  when  you  come  to 
the  tree,  you  should  exult  and  rejoice  in  it ;  and,  to  say 
the  truth,  I  question  whether,  to  a  wise  man,  the  catas- 
trophe of  many  of  those  who  die  by  a  halter  is  not 
more  to  be  envied  than  pitied.  Nothing  is  so  sinful  as 
sin,  and  murder  is  the  greatest  of  all  sins.  It  follows 
that  whoever  commits  murder  is  happy  in  suffering  for 
it.  If,  therefore,  a  man  who  commits  murder  is  so  happy 
in  dying  for  it,  how  much  better  must  it  be  for  you,  who 
have  committed  a  less  crime  ! 

Jonathan.  All  this  is  very  true;  but  let  us  take  a  bot- 
tle of  wine  to  cheer  our  spirits. 

Ordinary.  Why  wine?  Let  me  tell  you,  Mr.  Wild, 
there  is  nothing  so  deceitful  as  the  spirits  given  us  by 
wine.  If  you  must  drink,  let  us  have  a  bowl  of  punch — a 
liquor  I  the  rather  prefer,  as  it  is  nowhere  spoken  against 
in  scripture,  and  as  it  is  more  wholesome  for  the  gravel, 
a  distemper  with  which  I  am  grievously  afflicted. 

Jonathan  {having  called  for  a  boivl).  I  ask  your  par- 
don, doctor  ;  I  should  have  remembered  that  punch  was 
your  favorite  liquor.  I  think  you  never  taste  wine  while 
there  is  any  punch  remaining  on  the  table. 

Ordinary.  I  confess  I  look  on  punch  to  be  the  more 
eligible  liquor,  as  well  for  the  reasons  I  have  before  men- 
tioned as  likewise  for  one  other  cause,  it  is  the  properest 
for  a  draught.  I  own  I  took  it  a  little  unkind  of  you  to 
mention  wine,  thinking  you  knew  my  palate. 

Jonathan.  You  are  in  the  right;  and  I  will  take  a 
swingeing  cup  to  your  being  made  a  bishop. 

Ordinary.  And  I  will  wish  you  a  reprieve  in  as  large  a 
draught.     Come,  don't  despair  :  it  is  yet  time  enough  to 


JONATHAN   WILD.  195 

think  of  dying  ;  you  have  good  friends,  who  very  probably 
may  prevail  for  you.  I  have  known  many  a  man  re- 
prieved who  had  less  reason  to  expect  it. 

Jonathan.  But  if  I  should  flatter  myself  with  such 
hopes,  and  be  deceived — what  then  would  become  of  my 
soul  ? 

Ordinary.  Pugh  !     Never  mind  your  soul — leave  that 

to  me  ;  I  will  render  a  good  account  of  it,  I  warrant  you. 

I  have  a  sermon  in  my  pocket  which  may  be  of  some  use 

to  you  to  hear.     I  do  not  value  myself  on  the  talent  of 

preaching,  since  no  man  ought  to  value  himself  for  any 

gift  in  this  world.     But  perhaps  there  are  many  such 

sermons.     But  to  proceed,  since  we  have  nothing  else  to 

do  till  the  punch  comes.     My  text  is  the  latter  part  of  a 

verse  only  : — 

To  the  Greeks  foolishness. 

The  occasion  of  these  words  was  principally  that  philos- 
ophy of  the  Greeks  which  at  that  time  had  overrun 
great  part  of  the  heathen  world,  had  poisoned,  and,  as  it 
were,  puffed  up  their  minds  with  pride,  so  that  they  dis- 
regarded all  kinds  of  doctrine  in  comparison  of  their  own: 
and,  however  safe  and  however  sound  the  learning  of 
others  might  be,  yet,  if  it  anywise  contradicted  their  own 
laws,  customs,  and  received  opinions,  away  with  it — it  is 
not  for  us.    It  was  to  the  Greeks  foolishness. 

In  the  former  part,  therefore,  of  my  discourse  on  these 
words,  I  shall  principally  confine  myself  to  the  laying 
open  and  demonstrating  the  great  emptiness  and  vanity 
of  this  philosophy,  with  which  these  idle  and  absurd 
sophists  were  so  proudly  blown  up  and  elevated. 

And  here  I  shall  do  two  things  :  First,  I  shall  expose 
the  matter ;  and,  secondly,  the  manner  of  this  absurd 
philosophy. 

And  first,  for  the  first  of  these,  namely  the  matter. 
Now  here  wTe  may  retort  the  unmannerly  word  which  our 
adversaries  have  audaciously  thrown  in  our  faces ;  for 
what  was  all  this  mighty  matter  of  philosophy,  this  heap 


196  JONATHAN  WILD. 

of  knowledge,  which  was  to  bring  such  large  harvests  of 
honor  to  those  who  sowed  it,  and  so  greatly  and  nobly  to 
enrich  the  ground  on  which  it  fell ;  what  was  it  but  fool- 
ishness ?  An  inconsistent  heap  of  nonsense,  of  absurdi- 
ties and  contradictions,  bringing  no  ornament  to  the 
mind  in  its  theory,  nor  exhibiting  any  usefulness  to  the 
body  in  its  practice.  What  were  all  the  sermons  and  the 
sayings,  the  fables  and  the  morals  of  all  these  wise  men, 
but,  to  use  the  word  mentioned  in  my  text  once  more, 
foolishness  ?  What  was  their  great  master  Plato,  or 
their  other  great  light  Aristotle?  Both  fools,  mere 
quibblers  and  sophists,  idly  and  vainly  attached  to  cer- 
tain ridiculous  notions  of  their  own,  founded  neither  on 
truth  nor  on  reason.  Their  whole  works  are  a  strange 
medley  of  the  greatest  falsehoods,  scarce  covered  over 
with  the  color  of  truth  :  their  precepts  are  neither  bor- 
rowed from  nature  nor  guided  by  reason;  mere  fictions, 
serving  only  to  evince  the  dreadful  height  of  human 
pride;  in  one  word,  foolishness.  It  may  be  perhaps  ex- 
pected of  me  that  I  should  give  some  instances  from  their 
works  to  prove  this  charge ;  but,  as  to  transcribe  every 
passage  to  my  purpose  would  be  to  transcribe  their 
whole  works,  and  as  in  such  a  plentiful  crop  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  choose ;  instead  of  trespassing  on  your  patience, 
I  shall  conclude  this  first  head  with  asserting  what  I 
have  so  fully  proved,  and  what  may  indeed  be  inferred 
from  the  text,  that  the  philosophy  of  the   Greeks  was 

FOOLISHNESS. 

Proceed  we  now,  in  the  second  place,  to  consider  the 
manner  in  which  this  inane  and  simple  doctrine  was  prop- 
agated. And  here But  here  the  punch  by  enter- 
ing waked  Mr.  Wild,  who  was  fast  asleep,  and  put  an 
end  to  the  sermon;  nor  could  we  obtain  any  farther 
account  of  the  conversation  which  passed  at  this  inter- 
view. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  197 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Wild  proceeds  to  the  highest  consummation  of  human  greatness. 

The  day  now  drew  nigh  when  our  great  man  was  to 
exemplify  the  last  and  noblest  act  of  greatness  by 
which  any  hero  can  signalize  himself.  This  was  the  da}7  of 
execution,  or  consummation,  or  apotheosis  (for  it  is  called 
by  different  names),  which  was  to  give  our  hero  an  oppor- 
tunity of  facing  death  and  damnation,  without  any  fear  in 
his  heart,  or,  at  least,  without  betraying  any  symptoms 
of  it  in  his  countenance.  A  completion  of  greatness 
which  is  heartily  to  be  wished  to  every  great  man  ;  noth- 
ing being  more  worthy  of  lamentation  than  when  For- 
tune, like  a  lazy  poet,  winds  up  her  catastrophe  awk- 
wardly, and  bestowing  too  little  care  on  her  fifth  act,  dis- 
misses the  hero  with  a  sneaking  and  private  exit,  who  had 
in  the  former  part  of  the  drama  performed  such  notable 
exploits  as  must  promise  to  every  good  judge  among  the 
spectators  a  noble,  public,  and  exalted  end. 

But  she  was  resolved  to  commit  no  such  error  in  this 
instance.  Our  hero  was  too  much  and  too  deservedly  her 
favorite  to  be  neglected  by  her  in  his  last  moments ;  ac- 
cordingly all  efforts  for  a  reprieve  were  vain,  and  the 
name  of  Wild  stood  at  the  head  of  those  who  were  ordered 
for  execution. 

From  the  time  he  gave  over  all  hopes  of  life,  his  con- 
duct was  truly  great  and  admirable.  Instead  of  showing 
any  marks  of  dejection  or  contrition,  he  rather  infused 
more  confidence  and  assurance  into  his  looks.  He  spent 
most  of  his  hours  in  drinking  with  his  friends  and  with 
the  good  man  above  commemorated.  In  one  of  these 
compotations,  being  asked  whether  he  was  afraid  to  die, 
he  answered,  ' '  D — n  me,  it  is  only  a  dance  without 
music."  Another  time,  when  one  expressed  some  sorrow 
for  his  misfortune,  as  he  termed  it,  he  said  with  great 
fierceness, — "  A  man  can  die  but  once."    Again,  when 


198  JONATHAN  WILD. 

one  of  his  intimate  acquaintance  hinted  his  hopes  that 
he  would  die  like  a  man,  he  cocked  his  hat  in  defiance,  and 
cries  out  greatly — "  Zounds  !  who's  afraid  ?" 

Happy  would  it  have  been  for  posterity,  could  we  have 
retrieved  any  entire  conversation  which  passed  at  this 
season,  especially  between  our  hero  and  his  learned  com- 
forter ;  but  we  have  searched  many  pasteboard  records 
in  vain. 

On  the  eve  of  his  apotheosis,  Wild's  lady  desired  to 
see  him,  to  which  he  consented.  This  meeting  was  at  first 
very  tender  on  both  sides ;  but  it  could  not  continue  so, 
for  unluckily,  some  hints  of  former  miscarriages  inter- 
vening, as  particular] y  when  she  asked  him  how  he  could 

have  used  her  so  barbarously  once  as  calling  her  b ,  and 

whether  such  language  became  a  man,  much  less  a  gen- 
tleman, Wild  flew  into  a  violent  passion,  and  swore  she  was 

the  vilest  of  b s  to  upbraid  him  at  such  a  season  with 

an  unguarded  word  spoken  long  ago.  She  replied,  with 
many  tears,  she  was  well  enough  served  for  her  folly  in 
visiting  such  a  brute  ;  but  she  had  one  comfort,  however, 
that  it  would  be  the  last  time  he  could  ever  treat  her  so ;  that 
indeed  she  had  some  obligation  to  him,  for  that  his  cruelty 
to  her  would  reconcile  her  to  the  fate  he  was  to-morrow  to 
suffer ;  and,  indeed,  nothing  but  such  brutality  could  have 
made  the  consideration  of  his  shameful  death  (so  this 
weak  woman  called  hanging),  which  was  now  inevitable, 
to  be  borne  even  without  madness.  She  then  proceeded 
to  a  recapitulation  of  his  faults  in  an  exacter  order,  and 
with  more  perfect  memory,  than  one  would  have  imagined 
her  capable  of ;  and  it  is  probable  would  have  rehearsed  a 
complete  catalogue  had  not  our  hero's  patience  failed 
him,  so  that  with  the  utmost  fury  and  violence  he  caught 
her  by  the  hair  and  kicked  her  as  heartily  as  his  chains 
would  suffer  him  out  of  the  room. 

At  length  the  morning  came  which  Fortune  at  his  birth 
had  resolutely  ordained  for  the  consummation  of  our 
hero's  greatness  :  he  had  himself   indeed  modestly  de- 


JONATHAN  WILD.  109 

clined  tlie  public  honors  she  intended  him,  and  had  taken 
a  quantity  of  laudanum,  in  order  to  retire  quietly  off  the 
stage;  but  we  have  already  observed,  in  the  course  of  our 
wonderful  history,  that  to  struggle  against  this  lady's 
decrees  is  vain  and  impotent ;  and  whether  she  hath  de- 
termined you  shall  be  hanged  or  be  a  prime  minister,  it  is 
in  either  case  lost  labor  to  resist.  Laudanum,  therefore, 
being  unable  to  stop  the  breath  of  our  hero,  which  the 
fruit  of  hemp  seed,  and  not  the  spirit  of  poppy  seed,  was 
to  overcome,  he  was  at  the  usual  hour  attended  by  the 
proper  gentleman  appointed  for  that  purpose,  and  ac- 
quainted that  the  cart  was  ready.  On  this  occasion  he 
exerted  that  greatest  of  courage  which  hath  been  so  much 
celebrated  in  other  heroes  ;  and,  knowing  that  it  was  im- 
possible to  resist,  he  gravely  declared  he  would  attend 
them.  He  then  descended  to  that  room  where  the  fetters 
of  great  men  are  knocked  off  in  a  most  solemn  and  cere- 
monious manner.  Then  shaking  hands  with  his  friends 
(to  wit,  those  who  were  conducting  him  to  the  tree),  and 
drinking  their  healths  in  a  bumper  of  brandjr,  he  ascended 
the  cart,  where  he  was  no  sooner  seated  than  he  received 
the  acclamations  of  the  multitude,  who  were  highly 
ravished  with  his  greatness. 

The  cart  now  moved  slowly  on,  being  preceded  by  a 
troop  of  horse-guards  bearing  javelins  in  their  hands, 
through  streets  lined  with  crowds  all  admiring  the  great 
behavior  of  our  hero,  who  rode  on,  sometimes  sighing, 
sometimes  swearing,  sometimes  singing  or  whistling,  as 
his  humor  varied. 

When  he  came  to  the  tree  of  glory  he  was  welcomed 
with  an  universal  shout  of  the  people,  who  were  there 
assembled  in  prodigious  numbers  to  behold  a  sight  much 
more  rare  in  populous  cities  than  one  would  reasonably 
imagine  it  should  be,  viz.  the  proper  catastrophe  of  a 
great  man. 

But  though  envy  was,  through  fear,  obliged  to  join  the 
general  voice  in  applause  on  this  occasion,  there  were  not 


200  JONATHAN  WILD. 

wanting  some  who  maligned  this  completion  of  glory, 
which  was  now  about  to  he  fulfilled  to  our  hero,  and 
endeavored  to  prevent  it  by  knocking  him  on  the  head  as 
he  stood  under  the  tree,  while  the  ordinary  was  perform- 
ing his  last  office.  They  therefore  began  to  batter  the 
cart  with  stones,  brickbats,  dirt,  and  all  manner  of  mis- 
chievous weapons,  some  of  which,  erroneously  playing  on 
the  robes  of  the  ecclesiastic,  made  him  so  expeditious  in 
his  repetition,  that  with  wonderful  alacrity  he  had  ended 
almost  in  an  instant,  and  conveyed  himself  into  a  place  of 
safety  in  a  hackney-coach,  where  he  waited  the  conclusion 
with  a  temper  of  mind  described  in  these  verses  : 

Suave  mari    magno,  turbantibus  eequora  ventis, 
E  terra  alterius  magnum  spectare  laborem. 

We  must  not,  however,  omit  one  circumstance,  as  it 
serves  to  show  the  most  admirable  conservation  of 
character  in  our  hero  to  the  last  moment,  which  was, 
that,  whilst  the  ordinary  was  busy  in  his  ejaculations, 
Wild,  in  the  midst  of  the  shower  of  stones,  &c,  which 
played  upon  him,  applied  his  hands  to  the  parson's 
pocket,  and  emptied  it  of  his  bottle-screw,  which  he 
carried  out  of  the  world  in  his  hand. 

The  ordinary  being  now  descended  from  the  cart,  Wild 
had  just  opportunity  to  cast  his  eyes  around  the  crowd, 
and  give  them  a  hearty  curse,  when  immediately  the 
horses  moved  on,  and  with  universal  applause  our  hero 
swung  out  of  this  world. 

Thus  fell  Jonathan  Wild  the  great,  by  a  death  as 
glorious  as  his  life  had  been,  and  which  was  so  truly 
agreeable  to  it,  that  the  latter  must  have  been  deplorably 
maimed  and  imperfect  without  the  former  ;  a  death  which 
hath  been  alone  wanting  to  complete  the  characters  of 
several  ancient  and  modern  heroes,  whose  histories  would 
then  have  been  read  with  much  greater  pleasure  by  the 
wisest  in  ail  ages.  Indeed  we  could  almost  wish  that 
whenever  Fortune  seems  wantonly  to  deviate  from  her 


JONATHAN  WILD.  201 

purpose,  and  leaves  her  work  imperfect  in  this  particular, 
the  historian  would  indulge  himself  in  the  license  of 
poetry  and  romance,  and  even  do  a  violence  to  truth,  to 
oblige  his  reader  with  a  page  which  must  he  the  most 
delightful  in  all  the  history,  and  which  could  never  fail  of 
producing  an  instructive  moral. 

Narrow  minds  may  possibly  have  some  reason  to  be 
ashamed  of  going  this  way  out  of  the  world,  if  their  con- 
sciences can  fly  in  their  faces  and  assure  them  they  have 
not  merited  such  an  honor  ;  but  he  must  be  a  fool  who  is 
ashamed  of  being  hanged,  who  is  not  weak  enough  to  be 
ashamed  of  having  deserved  it. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

The  character  of  our  hero,  and  the  conclusion  of  this  history. 

We  will  now  endeavor  to  draw  the  character  of  this  great 
man ;  and,  by  bringing  together  those  several  features  as 
it  were  of  his  mind  which  lie  scattered  up  and  down  in  this 
history,  to  present  our  readers  with  a  perfect  picture  of 
greatness. 

Jonathan  Wild  had  every  qualification  necessary  to 
form  a  great  man.  As  his  most  powerful  and  predomi- 
nant passion  was  ambition,  so  nature  had,  with  consum- 
mate propriety,  adapted  all  his  faculties  to  the  attaining 
those  glorious  ends  to  which  this  passion  directed  him. 
He  was  extremely  ingenious  in  inventing  designs,  artful 
in  contriving  the  means  to  accomplish  his  purposes,  and 
resolute  in  executing  them ;  for  as  the  most  exquisite 
cunning  and  most  undaunted  boldness  qualified  him  for 
any  undertaking,  so  was  he  not  restrained  by  any  of  those 
weaknesses  which  disappoint  the  views  of  mean  and  vul- 
gar souls,  and  which  are  comprehended  in  one  general 
term  of  honesty,  which  is  a  corruption  of  honosty,  a  word 
derived  from  what   the    Greeks  call  an  ass.      He  was 


202  JONATHAN  WILD. 

entirely  free  from  those  low  vices  of  modesty  and  good- 
nature, which,  as  he  said,  implied  a  total  negation  of 
human  greatness,  and  were  the  only  qualities  which  abso- 
lutely rendered  a  man  incapable  of  making  a  considerable 
figure  in  the  world.  His  lust  was  inferior  only  to  his 
ambition  ;  but,  as  for  what  simple  people  call  love,  he  knew 
not  what  it  was.  His  avarice  was  immense,  but  it  was  of 
the  rapacious,  not  of  the  tenacious  kind  ;  his  rapacious- 
ness  was  indeed  so  violent,  that  nothing  ever  contented 
him  but  the  whole  ;  for,  however  considerable  the  share 
was  which  his  coadjutors  allowed  him  of  a  booty,  he  was 
restless  in  inventing  means  to  make  himself  master  of  the 
smallest  pittance  reserved  by  them.  He  said  laws  were 
made  for  the  use  of  prigs  only,  and  to  secure  their  prop- 
erty ;  they  were  never  therefore  more  perverted  than 
when  their  edge  was  turned  against  these ;  but  that  this 
generally  happened  through  their  want  of  sufficient  dex- 
terity. The  character  which  he  most  valued  himself 
upon,  and  which  he  principally  honored  in  others,  was 
that  of  hypocrisy.  His  opinion  was,  that  no  one  could 
carry  priggism  very  far  without  it ;  for  which  reason,  he 
said,  there  was  little  greatness  to  be  expected  in  a  man 
who  acknowledged  his  vices,  but  always  much  to  be 
hoped  from  him  who  professed  great  virtues  :  wherefore, 
though  he  would  always  shun  the  person  whom  he  dis- 
covered guilty  of  a  good  action,  yet  he  was  never 
deterred  by  a  good  character,  which  was  more  com- 
monly the  effect  of  profession  than  of  action  ;  for  which 
reason  he  himself  was  always  very  liberal  of  honest  pro- 
fessions, and  had  as  much  virtue  and  goodness  in  his 
mouth  as  a  saint ;  never  in  the  least  scrupling  to  swear 
by  his  honor,  even  to  those  who  knew  him  the  best ;  nay, 
though  he  held  good-nature  and  modesty  in  the  highest 
contempt,  he  constantly  practised  the  affectation  of  both, 
and  recommended  this  to  others,  whose  welfare,  on  his 
own  account,  he  wished  well  to.  He  laid  down  several 
maxims  as  the  certain  methods  of  attaining  greatness,  to 


JONATHAN  WILD.  203 

which,  in  his  own  pursuit  of  it,  he  constantly  adhered.     As, 

1.  Never  to  do  more  mischief  to  another  than  was  neces- 
sary to  the  effecting  his  purpose  ;  for  that  mischief 
was  too  precious  a  thing-  to  be  thrown  away. 

2.  To  know  no  distinction  of  men  from  affection  ;  hut  to 
sacrifice  all  with  equal  readiness  to  his  interest. 

3.  Never  to  communicate  more  of  an  affair  than  was 
necessary  to  the  person  who  was  to  execute  it. 

4.  Not  to  trust  him  who  hath  deceived  you,  nor  who 
knows  he  hath  been  deceived  by  you. 

5.  To  forgive  no  enemy;  but  to  be  cautious  and  of  ten 
dilatory  in  revenge. 

6.  To  shun  poverty  and  distress,  but  to  ally  himself  as 

close  as  possible  to  power  and  riches. 

7.  To  maintain  a  constant  gravity  in  his  countenance  and 
behavior,  and  to  affect  wisdom  on  all  occasions. 

8.  To  foment  eternal  jealousies  in  his  gang,  one  of 
another. 

9 .  Never  to  reward  any  one  equal  to  his  merit ;  but 
always  to  insinuate  that  the  reward  was  above  it. 

10.  That  all  men  were  knaves  or  fools,  and  much  the 
greater  number  a  composition  of  both. 

11.  That  a  good  name,  like  money,  must  be  parted  with, 
or  at  least  greatly  risked,  in  order  to  bring  the 
owner  any  advantage. 

12.  That  virtues,  like  precious  stones,  were  easily  coun- 
terfeited ;  that  the  counterfeits  in  both  cases  adorned 
the  wearer  equally,  and  that  very  few  had  knowledge 
or  discernment  sufficient  to  distinguish  the  counter- 
feit jewel  from  the  real. 

13.  That  many  men  were  undone  by  not  going  deep 
enough  in  roguery  ;  as  in  gaming  any  man  may  be  a 
loser  who  doth  not  play  the  whole  game. 

14.  That  men  proclaim  their  own  virtues,  as  shopkeepers 
expose  their  goods,  in  order  to  profit  by  them. 

15.  That  the  heart  was  the  proper  seat  of  hatred,  and  the 

countenance  of  affection  and  friendship. 


204  JONATHAN  WILD. 

He  had  many  more  of  the  same  kind,  all  equally  good 
with  these,  and  which  were  after  his  decease  found  in  his 
study,  as  the  twelve  excellent  and  celebrated  rules  were 
in  that  of  King-  Charles  the  First ;  for  he  never  promul- 
gated them  in  his  lifetime,  not  having-  them  constantly  in 
his  mouth,  as  some  grave  persons  have  the  rules  of  vir- 
tue and  morality,  without  paying  the  least  regard  to 
them  in  their  actions  :  whereas  our  hero,  by  a  constant 
and  steady  adherence  to  his  rules  in  conforming  every- 
thing he  did  to  them,  acquired  at  length  a  settled  habit 
of  walking  by  them,  till  at  last  he  was  in  no  danger  of 
inadvertently  going  out  of  the  way ;  and  by  these  means 
he  arrived  at  that  degree  of  greatness  which  few  have 
equaled  ;  none,  we  may  say,  have  exceeded  :  for,  though 
it  must  be  allowed  that  there  have  been  some  few  heroes 
who  have  done  greater  mischiefs  to  mankind,  such  as 
those  who  have  betrayed  the  liberty  of  their  country  to 
others,  or  who  have  undermined  and  overpowered  it 
themselves;  or  conquerors  who  have  impoverished,  pil- 
laged, sacked,  burnt,  and  destroyed  the  countries  and 
cities  of  their  fellow-creatures,  from  no  other  provocation 
than  that  of  glory,  i.  e.  as  the  tragic  poet  calls  it, 

a  privilege  to  kill, 
A  strong  temptation  to  do  bravely  ill ; 

yet,  if  we  consider  it  m  the  light  wherein  actions  are 
placed  in  this  line, 

Laetius  est,  quoties  magno  tibi  constat  honestum  ; 

when  we  see  our  hero,  without  the  least  assistance  or  pre- 
tence, setting  himself  at  the  head  of  a  gang  which  he  had 
not  any  shadow  of  right  to  govern  ;  if  we  view  him  main- 
taining absolute  power  and  exercising  tyranny  over  a 
lawless  crew,  contrary  to  all  law  but  that  of  his  own  will ; 
if  we  consider  him  setting  up  an  open  trade  publicly,  in 
defiance  not  only  of  the  laws  of  his  country  but  of  the 
common  sense  of  his  countrymen  ;  if  we  see  him  first 
contriving  the  robbery  of  others,  and  again  the  defraud- 


JONATHAN  WILD.  205 

ing  the  very  robbers  of  that  booty  which  they  had  ven- 
tured their  necks  to  acquire,  and  which,  without  any 
hazard,  they  might  have  retained,  here  sure  he  must 
appear  admirable,  and  we  may  challenge  not  only  the 
truth  of  history,  but  almost  the  latitude  of  fiction,  to 
equal  his  glory. 

Nor  had  he  any  of  those  flaws  in  his  character  which, 
though  they  have  been  commended  by  weak  writers, 
have  (as  I  hinted  in  the  beginning  of  this  history)  by  the 
judicious  reader  been  censured  and  despised.  Such  was 
the  clemency  of  Alexander  and  Ceesar,  which  nature  had 
so  grossly  erred  in  giving  them,  as  a  painter  would  who 
should  dress  a  peasant  in  the  robes  of  state,  or  give  the 
nose  or  any  other  feature  of  a  Venus  to  a  satyr.  What 
had  the  destroyers  of  mankind,  that  glorious  pair,  one  of 
whom  came  into  the  world  to  usurp  the  dominion  and 
abolish  the  constitution  of  his  own  country ;  the  other  to 
conquer,  enslave,  and  rule  over  the  whole  world,  at  least, 
so  much  as  was  well  known  to  him,  and  the  shortness  of 
his  life  would  give  him  leave  to  visit ;  what  had,  I  say, 
such  as  these  to  do  with  clemency  ?  Who  cannot  see  the 
absurdity  and  contradiction  of  mixing  such  an  ingredient 
with  those  noble  and  great  qualities  I  have  before  men- 
tioned ?  Now,  in  Wild  everything  was  truly  great, 
almost  without  alloy,  as  his  imperfections  (for  surely 
some  small  ones  he  had)  were  only  such  as  served  to  de- 
nominate him  a  human  creature,  of  which  kind  none  ever 
arrived  at  consummate  excellence.  But  surely  his  whole 
behavior  to  his  friend  Heartfree  is  a  convincing  proof 
that  the  true  iron  or  steel  greatness  of  his  heart  was  net 
debased  by  any  softer  metal.  Indeed,  while  greatness 
consists  in  power,  pride,  insolence,  and  doing  mischief  to 
mankind — to  speak  out — while  a  great  man  and  a  great 
rogue  are  synonymous  terms,  so  long  shall  Wild  stand 
unrivaled  on  the  pinnacle  of  greatness.  Nor  must  we 
omit  here,  as  the  finishing  of  his  character,  what  indeed 
ought  to  be  remembered  on  his  tomb  or  his  statue,  the 


206  JONATHAN  WILD. 

conformity  above  mentioned  of  his  death  to  his  life  ;  and 
that  Jonathan  Wild  the  Great,  after  all  his  mighty  ex- 
ploits, was,  what  so  few  great  men  can  accomplish— 
hanged  by  the  neck  till  he  was  dead. 

Having  thus  brought  our  hero  to  his  conclusion,  it  may 
be  satisfactory  to  some  readers  (for  many,  I  doubt  not, 
carry  their  concern  no  farther  than  his  fate)  to  know 
what  became  of  Heartfree.     We  shall  acquaint  them, 
therefore,  that  his  sufferings  were  now  at  an  end  ;  that 
the  good  magistrate  easily  prevailed  for  his  pardon,  nor 
was  contented  till  he  had  made  him  all  the  reparation  he 
could  for  his  troubles,  though  the  share  he  had  in  bring- 
ing these  upon  him  was  not  only  innocent  but  from  its 
motive  laudable.    He  procured  the  restoration  of  the  jew- 
els from  the  man-of-war  at  her  return  to  England,  and, 
above  all,  omitted  no  labor  to   restore  Heartfree  to  his 
reputation,  and  to  persuade  his  neighbors,  acquaintances, 
and  customers  of  his  innocence.     When  the  commission 
of  bankruptcy  was  satisfied,  Heartfree  had  a  considerable 
sum  remaining  ;    for  the  diamond  presented  to  his  wife 
was  of  prodigious  value,  and  infinitely  recompensed  the 
joss  of  those  jewels  which  Miss  Straddle  had  disposed  of. 
He  now  set  up  again  in  his  trade ;  compassion  for  his  un- 
merited misfortunes  brought  him  many  customers  among 
those  who  had  any  regard  to  humanity ;  and  he  hath,  by 
industry  joined  with  parsimony,  amassed  a  considerable 
fortune.     His  wife  and  he  are  now  grown  old  in  the  pur- 
est love  and  friendship,  but  never  had  another  child. 
Friendly  married  his  eldest  daughter  at  the  age  of  nine- 
teen, and  became  his  partner  in  trade.  As  to  the  younger, 
she  never  would  listen  to  the  addresses  of  any  lover,  not 
even  of  a  young  nobleman,  who  offered  to  take  her  with 
two  thousand  pounds,  which  her  father  would  have  will- 
ingly  produced,  and  indeed  did  his  utmost  to  persuade 
her  to  the  match  ;    but  she  refused  absolutely,  nor  would 
give  any  other  reason  when  Heartfree  pressed  her,  than 
that  she  had  dedicated  her  days  to  his  service,  and  was 


JONATHAN  WILD.  207 

resolved  no  other  duty  should  interfere  with  that  which 
she  owed  to  the  best  of  fathers,  nor  prevent  her  from 
being-  the  nurse  of  his  old  age. 

Thus  Heartfree,  his  wife,  his  two  daughters,  his  son-in- 
law,  and  his  grandchildren,  of  which  he  hath  several,  live 
all  together  in  one  house  ;  and  that,  with  such  amity  and 
affection  towards  each  other,  that  they  are  in  the  neigh- 
borhood called  the  family  of  love. 

As  to  all  che  other  persons  mentioned  in  this  history  in 
the  light  of  greatness,  they  had  all  the  fate  adapted  to  it, 
being  every  one  hanged  by  the  neck,  save  two,  viz.  Miss 
Theodosia  Snap,  who  was  transported  to  America,  where 
she  was  pretty  well  married,  reformed,  and  made  a  good 
wife  ;  and  the  count,  who  recovered  of  the  wound  he  had 
received  of  the  hermit  and  made  his  escape  into  France, 
where  he  committed  a  robbery,  was  taken,  and  broke  on 
the  wheel. 

Indeed,  whoever  considers  the  common  fate  of  great 
men  must  allow  they  well  deserve  and  hardly  earn  that 
applause  which  is  given  them  by  the  world  ;  for,  when  we 
reflect  on  the  labors  and  pains,  the  cares,  disquietudes, 
and  dangers  which  attend  their  road  to  greatness,  we  may 
say  with  the  divine  that  a  man  may  go  to  Heaven  with 
half  the  pains  ivhich  it  costs  him  to  purchase  hell.  To 
say  the  truth,  the  world  has  this  reason  at  least  to  honor 
such  characters  as  that  of  Wild  :  that,  while  it  is  in  the 
power  of  every  man  to  be  perfectly  honest,  not  one  in  a 
thousand  is  capable  of  being  a  complete  rogue  ;  and  few 
indeed  there  are  who,  if  they  were  inspired  with  the  vanity 
of  imitating  our  hero,  would  not  after  much  fruitless  pains 
be  obliged  to  own  themselves  inferior  to  Mr.  Jonathan 
Wild  the  Great. 


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